“She went out. She said she had to go to the mall or something, but I think she’s probably just driving around. Which, actually, sort of sucks, because I wanted the car tonight. I think she’s scared, Dad.”

“Scared?”

“Yeah, like, about a whole bunch of things. I think she’s worried about you, about what you might be getting mixed up in, and she’s scared her job is falling apart, and I think she’s scared that you guys are headed for the dumper.”

I felt a lump in my throat. “I don’t want that to happen.”

“Yeah, well, like, neither do I. And I don’t think Paul’d be all that crazy about it either.”

“How is Paul?”

“He’s okay, I guess. That reminds me, somethin’ kind of weird. This woman came to the door, like, she could have been a football player or something. And there’s a car in the drive, there’s another one exactly like her behind the wheel, and this really ugly woman in the passenger seat.”

Who the hell would that be? Not Mrs. Gorkin and her daughters?

“Anyway, the one that came to the door, she asks is Paul there, and I say no, because he wasn’t, right? And so she hands me this envelope, has a hundred bucks in it, and she says, ‘This is for work,’ well, actually, she says, ‘Dis iz for verk.’ She has this kind of accent, you know?”

“Okay.”

“She tells me to give it to Paul, that he should remember they did the right thing. These were the burger ladies, right?”

“Yeah.” I felt cold, standing outside Mrs. Merker’s house. “She didn’t threaten you or anything, or say anything about Paul?”

“No, nothing like that. Well, except, she said, tell Paul, he was wrong about the freezer. That the meat was okay.”

I breathed some cool night air in through my nose. “Honey, if she ever shows up again, or there’s any trouble, call the police. Or Lawrence. His number’s in my book.”

“Okay. When are you coming home?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to stay in Canborough overnight, then head on to the Groverton area in the morning. Maybe tomorrow night, I’ll be back.”

“Okay. Be careful?”

“I will, honey.” I thought a moment, and said, “Tell your mother, when she comes home, that I love her.”

“You tell her, Dad,” Angie said. “Bye.”

I closed the phone, slipped it back into my jacket, and collected my thoughts before completing my journey to Mrs. Merker’s door.

I knocked three times. Old flyers advertising sales long since past were littered about the shrubs. There was a dim light, probably from a television, visible through the front door blinds.