I was on early for the week, going nights next week, which was Feb and Morrie’s way with scheduling to make sure Ruthie nor me took a hit from having to do all early.

Luckily, things looked up around five, and when I did early, I usually got my breaks and lunch out of the way when it was not after five because that was when the tips were made. I didn’t need to be sitting on my ass, eating, when I could be making money.

Although cops had imprecise schedules, detective shifts were eight to five officially. If anything happened beyond that, the on call cop went in.

So unusually that day, I waited for my break until six thirty, when Merry was off. The autumn light was waning, which meant the storm windows were probably in before I phoned him.

He picked up on the second ring, greeting, “Hey.”

“Hey,” I replied, and it occurred to me that, although we had each other’s numbers, I didn’t think I’d ever phoned him.

We’d texted things, like him asking me, You bringing that bacon potato salad to Vi’s party? (which meant, bring it, and so I always did), and me texting him, Colts lost. You owe me twenty bucks.

But I’d never phoned him.

“Cher?” he called, and I shook my head sharply.

“Looked up Riverside Baptist Church. That Faith Saves thing looks pretty legit.”

“They’re not gonna tell everyone on the Internet they’re freaky-ass zealots intent on saving the world by kidnapping recovering addicts and brainwashing them.”

My hand tightened on my phone, my mind thinking of Trent’s devotion to Peg. “Holy fuck, Merry. Do you think that’s what they’re doing?”

There was humor in his deep voice when he replied, “Calm down, sweetheart. No. Just tellin’ you as you look into the shit that I feed you, don’t judge a book by its cover. We get it, we won’t go surface—we’ll look deeper. But I’ll do the digging.”

Okay, right, this was one of several things that had to stop, and to stop it, we had to talk.

“I have Wednesday and Friday off this week,” I declared.

“Fuck, I just got the weekend off,” he returned.

He was thinking I was planning payback time.

“Can we do lunch on Wednesday?” I asked.

“Mike and me bought a case this weekend, which means we’re officially over our recommended caseload. Until we clear some, lunch is a memory for me.”

I moved to the chair at the desk and sat in it before saying, “We need to talk, Merry.”

“What’re we doin’ right now, Cher?”

“I’m on a break.”

“So call me when Ethan goes to bed.”

“That’ll be late.”

There was humor in his voice again when he replied, “Not like you aren’t used to late nights.”

“This talk we need to have needs to be face-to-face.”

Merry had no reply to that, humor-filled or not.

I rushed to fill the silence.

“What we had…before…it was good. We fucked it up. We’re still fuckin’ it up, playin’ these games. We should sit down, talk it through, get back to that good. It’s the best thing for both of us, Merry, and we both know it.”