was that one time in college when he set fire to his fraternity's homecoming parade float. And the time he stole a CB radio out of a town grounds and maintenance truck. And he was kicked out of a basketball game for getting into a fist fight with the guy in front of him, and then with the security staff that arrived to break up the fight.
To the best of his knowledge, Jake and the Wallaces didn't even know each other. They certainly didn't move in the same social circles. The Wallaces were rich. Jake regularly had to choose which utility bill he didn't have enough money to cover. They owned horses, a little red sports car, and a five-thousand-square-foot mansion. Jake stole cable from his neighbors and watched it on a television he scammed from the local rental shop. They had everything. Jake had nothing.
In the end, Ray decided to place a call to Billy before heading out for St. Thomas.
"Hey, it's Ray," he said after being prompted to leave a message. "Jake was at my place when I got here about a half hour ago. Give me a call when you get this. I need to tell you something, and I need your advice. It's about twelve-thirty now. I'm heading up to St. Thomas to meet with Mrs. Wallace's father. I have no idea how long I'll be there, but I'll have my cell on me in case you call."
Following the same route he had taken on the way to groundbreaking the day before, Ray passed the field he had parked in for the event. A crew of migrant workers was busy dismantling the enormous tent that had housed the celebration. They had a lousy day for it. The temperature hung low in the upper fifties, a pencil gray covering of clouds blocked the sun, and a dreary wind carried spattering gusts of rain through the trees every few minutes. Ray drove with the radio off, his mind racing. He nibbled absentmindedly from a bag of pretzels he picked off the floor of his kitchen before leaving. The drive leading up to the main building at the St. Thomas Retirement Cottages wound gently left, then right, through a neighborhood of neatly groomed lawns bordering apartment windows. It was clear the lawns were backyards only, since no sidewalks or driveways presented themselves and the apartments were not numbered on the outside of the building. Signs guided him to a parking lot outside the administrative center.
The aroma of cafeteria cooking clung to the wet wind as it escaped from rooftop vents on the main building ahead of him. A high brick wall lining one side of the path to the main entrance shielded him from much of the blustery weather. Through tinted windows on either side of the doors he could see no sign of life. The cell phone in his pocket vibrated. He ignored it.
The reception desk was not immediately visible upon entering the building. Ray had to walk a short distance and step around a corner to the unmanned station in the spacious, albeit low-ceilinged, lobby. An arsenal of walkers, some basic models and others with baskets and horns like children's tricycles, lined the wall under a regal sign indicating the room beyond was the resident dining hall. Under the sign was taped a piece of paper asking residents to "Kindly Leave Your Walker in the Lobby." The brick interior walls and dark blues and greens of the facility's carpeting were dimly illuminated by the meager light of a cloudy day channeled into the room through skylights. Old-fashioned lamps scattered around the room didn't help much, either. As he drifted through the room taking in his surroundings, a silver haired woman who did not appear old enough to be a resident popped through a door behind the reception desk. Her hair and makeup were impeccably finished, and she wore a tailored pantsuit accentuated by just the right amount of costume jewelry. Ray immediately recognized her from the groundbreaking. She was the older, well-dressed woman who sat silently next to Sheriff Redmond's daughter when the sheriff asked him to take their picture. The woman stopped walking when she
To the best of his knowledge, Jake and the Wallaces didn't even know each other. They certainly didn't move in the same social circles. The Wallaces were rich. Jake regularly had to choose which utility bill he didn't have enough money to cover. They owned horses, a little red sports car, and a five-thousand-square-foot mansion. Jake stole cable from his neighbors and watched it on a television he scammed from the local rental shop. They had everything. Jake had nothing.
In the end, Ray decided to place a call to Billy before heading out for St. Thomas.
"Hey, it's Ray," he said after being prompted to leave a message. "Jake was at my place when I got here about a half hour ago. Give me a call when you get this. I need to tell you something, and I need your advice. It's about twelve-thirty now. I'm heading up to St. Thomas to meet with Mrs. Wallace's father. I have no idea how long I'll be there, but I'll have my cell on me in case you call."
Following the same route he had taken on the way to groundbreaking the day before, Ray passed the field he had parked in for the event. A crew of migrant workers was busy dismantling the enormous tent that had housed the celebration. They had a lousy day for it. The temperature hung low in the upper fifties, a pencil gray covering of clouds blocked the sun, and a dreary wind carried spattering gusts of rain through the trees every few minutes. Ray drove with the radio off, his mind racing. He nibbled absentmindedly from a bag of pretzels he picked off the floor of his kitchen before leaving. The drive leading up to the main building at the St. Thomas Retirement Cottages wound gently left, then right, through a neighborhood of neatly groomed lawns bordering apartment windows. It was clear the lawns were backyards only, since no sidewalks or driveways presented themselves and the apartments were not numbered on the outside of the building. Signs guided him to a parking lot outside the administrative center.
The aroma of cafeteria cooking clung to the wet wind as it escaped from rooftop vents on the main building ahead of him. A high brick wall lining one side of the path to the main entrance shielded him from much of the blustery weather. Through tinted windows on either side of the doors he could see no sign of life. The cell phone in his pocket vibrated. He ignored it.
The reception desk was not immediately visible upon entering the building. Ray had to walk a short distance and step around a corner to the unmanned station in the spacious, albeit low-ceilinged, lobby. An arsenal of walkers, some basic models and others with baskets and horns like children's tricycles, lined the wall under a regal sign indicating the room beyond was the resident dining hall. Under the sign was taped a piece of paper asking residents to "Kindly Leave Your Walker in the Lobby." The brick interior walls and dark blues and greens of the facility's carpeting were dimly illuminated by the meager light of a cloudy day channeled into the room through skylights. Old-fashioned lamps scattered around the room didn't help much, either. As he drifted through the room taking in his surroundings, a silver haired woman who did not appear old enough to be a resident popped through a door behind the reception desk. Her hair and makeup were impeccably finished, and she wore a tailored pantsuit accentuated by just the right amount of costume jewelry. Ray immediately recognized her from the groundbreaking. She was the older, well-dressed woman who sat silently next to Sheriff Redmond's daughter when the sheriff asked him to take their picture. The woman stopped walking when she
Similar Books
