Chapter 9: Mud

Hank was on the porch before I got my boots on.

He stood under the yellow bug light with the shotgun broken over his arm, and he did not look sleepy.

"Evening," he said to the dark.

"I'm here for Annabel," Dane called. "Just to talk."

He stood in the middle of the yard beside his white pickup, swaying a little, with the driver's door still open.

He had a tire iron in his right hand.

I came out onto the porch with Maisy behind me.

"Stay back," Hank said.

"You put me in jail," Dane said. His voice cracked. "My mother's crying. My boss called me. They took my job."

"You put yourself in jail," I said. "You drove drunk and left me in a wreck."

"You ruined my life!"

"You were already doing that."

He took one step toward the porch.

"Where's the money?"

"Gone," I said.

"Lindsey says you have it in the house. She says you've got cash and a pile of things you won't let anyone see. She says it's a lot."

Maisy went stiff beside me.

"She told you to come here?"

"She said you'd hand it over," Dane said, and he laughed. "She said you owed me."

"Plus One," I thought. "Now."

"His truck is right there," Plus One said. "Touch the bumper. I'll take it."

"Can you carry that?"

"It's heavy, so give me a minute afterwards," he said. "But oh, I want to."

I walked down the steps.

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