Chapter 8: Night Shift

On Tuesday night the thirty-first floor of the Lowry tower was empty except for us.

It was my floor now, according to the will.

Josiah had kept an office up there, a corner of glass and dark wood.

It had a long couch and a desk the size of a canoe.

Adrienne had been told to walk me through the files.

She stood on the other side of the desk with a stack of folders and a face.

"Shipping contracts," she said, and dropped the first one in front of me. "Four hundred of them. Read."

"All four hundred?"

"My father says you wanted to read everything."

"I said the folder from Friday."

"My father says this is the folder."

I picked up the first contract.

It was thirty pages of small print about pallets.

I read two lines, and the third line wouldn't stay still.

She watched me with her arms crossed.

"You're going to fall asleep," she said.

"I don't fall asleep."

"Everybody falls asleep."

I put the page down.

"Can I ask you something?"

"No."

"What does your father want you to do while I read?"

Her face changed, just a little.

The ring had warmed, and I listened to her pulse speed up and slow down again.

"Watch you," she said finally. "Tell him what you read. And keep you busy."

"With pallets."

"Why are you telling me?"

She was quiet for a long time.

Then she walked around the desk, took the folder out of my hand and tossed it on the couch.

"Because I watched the dean's video," she said. "My brother texted it to me from the parking lot."

I waited.

"He called me after, crying. My brother, who's six-three."

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