Chapter 22: Five Names

I built the new list at a picnic table behind the depot.

Dane sat across from me with his splinted hand flat on the wood.

Three names went in easily.

Nolan was first.

My partner at the dispatch center was second.

She was a gray-haired woman who had worked eleven years of nights beside me.

She had never once asked if I was faking.

The third slot stayed empty while Dane watched me.

"You don't have to put me in," he said.

"I know."

"I'd understand."

"Here is the deal," I said. "It's a trial. Ninety days."

He nodded fast.

"When I press it, you don't ask whether it's real."

I ticked off the rest on my fingers.

"You don't ask what I did, or whether I'm upset about something. You come, and you ask what's wrong when you get there."

"Done."

"And you don't tell anyone else what I said when I was angry. Not Derrick. Not anybody."

"I've got nobody to tell," Dane said, and tried to laugh.

I typed his name.

The app asked, Are you sure?

I pressed yes, and he looked at his boots for a long time.

A week later, my dispatch center held its quarterly staff dinner at an Italian restaurant with paper tablecloths.

There were thirty of us at a long table.

I had told my partner what I was going to do, and she had told the supervisor.

The supervisor shrugged.

"Test the thing, Hartnell," she said. "I'll time it."

I took out my phone in the middle of the breadsticks.

"Everyone, this is going to ring on three phones," I said. "It's a test."

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