The food seemed to have given Amber new energy. Sometimes she would become short of breath and have to rest for a few minutes before continuing, but she kept at it with surprising tenacity. I hovered in the background, staying as quiet as possible, and replenishing the drinks as they ran low. Patricia, periodically, would ask a question for clarification, but by and large, she let Amber talk. I stayed as long as I could but finally had to announce my departure.

“Ladies, I hate to leave you, but I have to go. Amber, is there anything you need before I take off?”

Amber reached a hand to the flowers that now sat in a vase on her nightstand and shook her head.

“No, Kenny-saw. But I hope you come back soon,” she said.

I leaned over to give her a kiss.

“I will, Amber. Very soon.”

“Okay,” she replied.

“I won’t be much longer, either,” Patricia declared. “Call me later?”

“I’ll call,” I said.

“And be careful,” Patricia rejoined. “I don’t want to have to come bail you out of trouble again.”

“I can’t promise anything there, but I’ll do my best,” I replied with a smile. “Bye, ladies.”

“Bye,” they replied as I headed for the door.

It was after seven in the evening as I got in my car, and the night was fully dark. My destination was a truck stop in South Carolina, about an hour away on U.S. 17, between the small towns of Pocotaligo and Yemassee. I debated taking the Talmadge Bridge over the river and following 17 all the way but decided to go up to I-95. It was a little bit farther, but I would certainly save time on the interstate. First I checked my phone for messages. I had felt it buzzing in my pocket while inside with Amber. I hit the Speak button and ran the message.

“Mr. Tanner—Kennesaw—this is Joree Causey. Could you call me back as soon as you get this message? I’m real worried about Junior. I ain’t seen him since you was here, and he won’t answer his phone. I’ve asked around, and ain’t nobody else seen him, neither. I’m scared somethin’ mighta happened to him. Call me back when you can, please. Bye.”

Junior is out ferrying around his partner in crime, Leon. That’s why you haven’t seen him, I thought. And if I see him first, well, he may not look so good afterward.

I hit the button to call Joree but got her answering service. I left a message for her to return the call. Then, cranking the engine and listening for a few seconds to the satisfying rumble of those eight Detroit cylinders, I set out for South Carolina.