Liv snatched it up and rushed to the bathroom. She unlocked the door, and Tommy ran inside, yanking down the front of his pants and squirting indiscriminately until making it to the bowl.

When he was done, he let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Feel better?”

He gave a wide-eyed nod.

Liv considered the urine all over the toilet seat and floor. She should leave it for the witch out front. But that was all she needed, Danielle telling everyone she’d vandalized Parker’s. She cleaned up the mess and dropped the key on the counter on their way out. But before reaching the door, Liv stopped. She marched back to the counter and scooped up the giant container of candy. She could feel Danielle’s glare burning into her as she and Tommy left the store.

“Welcome home,” she whispered to herself.

CHAPTER 21

Liv pulled the rental car into the driveway and frowned at the scene. The house, her childhood home, was in a state of disrepair. The hedges were in desperate need of trimming. Shutters crooked, paint peeling.

Cindy met them at the door. She, too, showed signs of neglect. Her hair had a two-inch band of gray at the part. She wore polyester pants with a threadbare cardigan.

Liv’s older sister had never been one to primp, and when they were kids, many wondered aloud how the two could be related. In high school Liv had been the town beauty, voted Irrigation Queen three times in the sexist pageant held every summer. She’d inherited their late mother’s delicate, faintly aristocratic features. Cindy was their father’s daughter. Big boned. A wide face and nose.

“Is this Tommy? I can’t believe it,” Cindy said in that raspy voice of hers. “You were just a baby the last time I saw you.” This was directed more at Liv than Tommy.

“It’s me,” Tommy said earnestly.

“Well, come on in and give your auntie a hug.”

Tommy hesitated, but sauntered over and gave her a sideways hug.

“I’m sorry we’re late,” Liv said. “Flight delays, then—”

“Visiting hours are over soon,” Cindy cut in, “so we probably should get over there if you want to see him today.”

They took Liv’s rental since Cindy’s vehicle didn’t have a car seat. Her sister glanced at the giant container of candy wedged between the front seats, but didn’t ask. It wasn’t long before they were on another lonely highway headed to the nursing home. On either side of them were vast fields, punctuated with telephone poles, birds balancing on the lines.

“They say we have a week to find him somewhere,” Cindy said, matter-of-fact.

“Or what?” Liv replied. “They’ll throw an elderly man with Alzheimer’s out on the street?”

“No, they’ll just hire an overpriced caregiver, put him in the most expensive room, and charge us an arm and a leg until we relent.”