Chapter 10: Rule Two

"Rule one, Floyd," Meredith said in the waiting room.

She kept her voice low. Her eyes stayed on the photo of the cut brake line.

"You're right," I said. "It wasn't a drunk driver. I lied."

"Why?"

"Because your grandfather asked me with his eyes, and I didn't know yet what you could carry."

"That isn't your decision."

"No." I looked at my hands. "Tonight. I'll tell you all of it, and you can throw things."

She didn't answer.

The doctor's door opened, and Clifford came out with his cane and a face he had arranged to look bored.

She came to the carriage house at eleven.

She didn't knock. She pushed the door open and stood on the mat with her coat still on.

"Tell me."

I told her.

I told her about the black SUV and the rail and the man with the gun.

I told her what the second man said, with Preston's name in the middle of it.

She sat down on the edge of my bed with her hands pressed between her knees.

"My brother," she said.

"Yes."

"My brother sent men to kill my grandfather."

"I think he wanted the car empty of everyone but Clifford. He didn't know you'd be in it."

"That's supposed to make it better?"

"No."

She laughed once, and her face crumpled, and she wiped it with the heel of her hand, furious about it.

"He pushed me on a swing when I was six. He used to share his fries with me."

"I know."

"You don't know anything. You didn't tell me anything."

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