They Left Me Behind on the Road Trip, So I Got on a Better Ride novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: Flowers on the Porch

I read it on the kitchen floor three times.

Disruptive.

Two years ago I'd have called Brody to apologize for whatever I'd done to make him write it.

I hit reply instead.

"To the jurors. I've read the request. I'll be there on May 14 with twelve prints, through the open wall, the way the rules say. If you'd like to bar me, please do it to my face, in the room. Frankie Bowen."

I sent it before I could fix the commas.

Then I went to bed and slept for eleven hours.

Dot's house in Denver was a narrow brick place on a street full of old trees.

It had a porch swing, and a hand-painted sign on the mailbox that said NO SOLICITORS, THIS MEANS YOU.

Shay drove us down the next afternoon with the twelve files on a thumb drive in my bra.

"Nobody's taking those," she said. "Not unless they want to fight me for them."

Dot opened the door before we knocked.

She was in a paint-stained apron over her denim jacket.

The red hat was hanging on a hook in the hall.

"The printer's warm," she said. "The tea's cold. My grandson's making dinner and pretending he isn't nervous."

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