Chapter 7: The Shoulder

I showed Alec the yellow note in the diner kitchen after closing.

He read the one word on it and folded it back along its crease.

"It's nothing," he said.

"He taped a note with your name on it inside Dad's box."

"He likes to put his hand on things."

Alec pushed the note into his vest pocket.

"Bets, I'll get the watch back. I swear it."

"Why would Clint do that?"

"Because he can."

He kissed the top of my head, which he had not done since we were kids, and he left through the back door.

I stood alone in the kitchen with the fryer ticking as it cooled.

It was past eleven. The diner was dark except for the neon, and the bikes had thinned out of the lot.

I was wiping the last table when the front door opened.

Dread came in with his helmet on his hip and stood in the doorway for a moment.

"You're up," he said.

"I live here."

"Above it."

"I'm closing."

He nodded and walked to the counter.

He sat down slowly on the far stool, and every move cost him something.

I had seen that before.

"Your back," I said.

"It's fine."

"You've been sitting like that since Friday. Lo told me you wouldn't let her look."

"My mother talks too much."

"Take off the vest."

He turned his head.

"Take it off, McFadden. I clean teeth for a living. I've seen people who say it's fine."

For a moment I thought he would say no.

Then he stood, unbuckled the leather, and pulled his shirt over his head in one motion.

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