Chapter 21: One Screw at a Time

Cain's POV

On the first Monday in December I became a customer.

I had thought about it for a week.

Mara had said no to my money and no to my lawyers.

She had not said no to my walking in and paying for something.

The store was half-open by then.

The new sign was still drying on its sawhorses, and one lamp was lit over the counter.

The bell jingled when I came in.

She looked up from behind the register, in a canvas apron, with a pencil in her ponytail.

"We're not open," she said.

"The door was unlocked."

"The lock is a rumor."

"I would like to buy a screw."

She put down the pencil.

"What kind?"

"I don't know. A screw."

"For what?"

"A purpose."

She looked at me for a long moment, and I watched her decide not to laugh.

"Half-inch, number eight, wood screw, zinc plated," she said. "Thirty-five cents."

"Is that the retail price?"

"It's the retail price. I'm not giving you a discount because you scared my accountant."

She took one screw from a bin and set it on the counter between us.

I paid with a dollar bill and waited for change.

She counted out sixty-five cents into my palm, and her fingers did not touch my hand once.

I noticed that with great precision.

"Anything else?" she said.

"No."

"Then good-bye, Mr. Rourke."

"Good-bye, Ms. Bell."

I carried the screw to my car and put it in the cupholder where the umbrella used to lie.

On Tuesday I came back.

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