Page 123 of Too Old for This

I don’t answer to Junior. And he was never getting out of here alive.

CHAPTER 66

Down by the vending machine, I pull the fire alarm.

Junior has been cooking for a little while already, enough to make him unrecognizable even if the fire department shows up right this second. But they won’t. The smoke detector in the room is broken, smashed with the hammer. I bet the batteries were dead anyway.

The parking lot is empty. Business has already shut down for the night. Even Danielle has gone home. Thank God. Hopefully, her evening was long and eventful and she never remembers the woman at the vending machine. Her nights must be filled with people more notable than me. I hope.

I glance over at the office. The light blinks outside, along with the arrow pointing to the door, but I can’t see who’s in there. Just as well. I’ve done the best I can to make Norma Dixon memorable.

I hit the button on Junior’s key fob. A big SUV lights up. Of course he has a car I have to climb into. So many adjustments to make, too. When I drive out of the parking lot, I hear fire engines in the distance. Dawn is almost here, and the alarm is still blaring. The Dew Drop comes alive as I drive away.

A bit of relief hits.

Twenty miles out of Baycliff, well beyond the town limits,I pull off the road and use Junior’s phone to search for a twenty-four-hour urgent care. The closest one in that direction is near Portland.

I swallow a couple of ibuprofen dry and get back on the road.

Two hours later, my arm has been x-rayed, and nothing is broken. It was just a hard bump against my forearm when Junior slammed the door into it. Misty, the nurse practitioner, is the nervous type. She flutters around, checking and rechecking my heartbeat and blood pressure.

“Let’s get you rehydrated,” she says.

Misty leads me to a lounge chair. This is an upscale urgent care in an expensive neighborhood outside of Portland. The kind with extras, like real leather chairs and vitamin infusions. Misty insists I get one of those, too.

I admit, there are a few good things about being old. Everyone at the urgent care goes above and beyond. They don’t want to deal with the paperwork if someone dies on-site.

If I were younger, I wouldn’t be here at all. My arm wouldn’t have stopped me. But I’m in no rush. I’m content to sit and rest, get a vitamin infusion, and recharge before the long drive. It gives me plenty of time to prepare myself for Burke. He’s different now. Sneakier. More strategic. Over the past few decades, he stopped playing checkers and learned how to play chess.

“How are you feeling now?” Misty asks.

“Much better.”

“Glad to hear it. These should help for today and tomorrow. If the pain continues, check in with your doctor.” Shehands me four doses of prescription-strength ibuprofen. That’ll work.

At the register, I give them a fake name, tell them I’m uninsured, and pay in cash. Nobody asks any questions.

My next stop is to buy a new phone charger. I had been prepared for a showdown at the Dew Drop, assuming Burke was the one who would come see me, but now it’s going to happen in Spokane. My first time back since the day Archie and I left, and I’m in no rush to get there before dark.

In the afternoon, I stop for a late lunch at a roadside restaurant. And I have to check the phones, starting with Norma’s. One text is waiting on her Shelter app.

Burke:Got delayed. Will let you know when I’m leaving.

Clever. He is establishing that he is not in Baycliff and never left the state of Washington. But he did send his son down to fix everything.

On Junior’s phone, a different text is waiting.

Burke:How’s your trip going?

Not well, Dad. Not well at all.

Junior:Not bad. Leaving soon. Talk later.

Burke:Sounds good.

I motion to the waitress for my check. A few more hours to go.

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