Page 136 of The List

“I’ll be all right,” he said for her benefit.

“I’m scared to death. What’s going on? This could cost me my job.”

“I can’t go into it right now. You’re just going to have to sit tight and be patient. But don’t worry about your job. They’ll understand.”

“Is Daddy involved in this? Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s involved and he’s fine.”

“Brent, why can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“Just keep an eye on Lori Anne. I’m counting on you.” He tried to hide the edge in his voice. “Put Mom back on. And Ashley… I love you.”

He hadn’t said that to anyone in a long time. But he knew he had to.

“I love you too.”

“Son, are you in trouble?” His mother still sounded irritated.

“You could say that.”

“With the police?”

“It’s far more complicated than that.”

“Can I help?”

He knew she didn’t understand. “Unfortunately, no. Please, just stay there till you hear from me again. Keep people around you. Tell no one you’re there if somebody calls and don’t let anybodyout of your sight. Don’t call my cell phone and tell Ashley not to call Hank’s.”

“Brent.”

He heard the strain in her voice.

“I don’t want to lose you too.”

He knew what she meant and he wanted to tell her everything, but knew he couldn’t. He hoped later there’d be a time and place for that. So he offered her some consolation, mixed with a twinge of hope.

“You won’t.”

He said goodbye and hung up.

More thunder echoed in the distance.

He climbed back into the Mustang and looked at his clothes. His shirt was soaking wet and filthy. The navy-blue pants to his once clean suit were smeared with caustic lime. His shoes, a new pair of wing tips bought only a few weeks ago, were caked in mud and dust. He needed a change of clothes. So he drove down the street and turned into the first shopping center, parking in front of a Walmart Superstore. Inside, he paid cash for a pair of jeans, a cotton pullover shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes. The jeans were okay in the waist but a little long so he simply rolled the legs and made do. Back outside, he stuffed his phone in his jeans pocket and tossed his suit into the back seat. On the Mustang’s passenger’s-side floorboard he noticed a soiled navy-blue Atlanta Braves cap. He stuffed it on. The cloth carried the faint smell of fish. A pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses stuck out from under the driver’s-side visor. He slipped them on too and checked his watch.

12:27P.M.

12:45P.M.

BRENT SAT IN THEKRYSTAL AND TRIED TO EAT A FEW OF THE TINYsquare hamburgers he’d adored since childhood, but didn’t have much of an appetite. Suddenly, his phone vibrated and he checkedthe display. Not a number he recognized, but the prefix signified Concord.

He answered.

“Where are you?” the voice asked.

Hank.

“Nearby. And you?”