Chapter 5: The Kitchen Floor

I tore Jocelyn Radtke's check in half on Millie's kitchen table.

Then I tore it in half again.

"Two hundred thousand dollars," Millie said, watching the pieces fall. "You could have at least looked at it first."

"I looked at it."

"For how long?"

"Long enough."

She picked up one corner and read the amount.

"Why are you keeping the pieces?"

"So nobody can say I never saw it."

I slid the four pieces back into the envelope and put it in my jacket.

It was Wednesday morning.

I had five days left before removal and a Monday in my head that I didn't understand.

Margot was going to sign a marriage license on Monday at ten.

She had begged me for a week, and by the end of it she would be married to a man who sold protein powder.

I had said it to myself in the shower, twice, and each time it sounded more like something that happened to someone else.

Millie dried her hands and looked at me hard.

"You're thinking about her."

"I'm thinking about a Monday."

"That's her." She pointed her spoon at me. "Your face does a whole thing."

I looked at the counter.

Her mug was the only one in the sink.

The pill organizer was still in my bag by the door.

I had picked it up on Sunday without thinking, because filling it was the habit of my hands, and I had never once left it behind.

Seven small lids, Monday to Sunday, morning and night.

"Millie," I said slowly. "Margot hasn't taken a pill since Sunday."

My sister put the spoon down.

"Say that again."

"I took them with me. I forgot she'd be in the house alone."

"She's not alone. She's got the influencer."

"The influencer doesn't know which ones are which."

"Nolan." Millie grabbed her keys. "Go."

I drove her truck, and she called her station from the passenger seat to say she'd be late.

The house was dark except for the kitchen.

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