“What do you mean?” Rachel asked.
Charlie shook his head and looked through the window, out into the street. “My mom is sick, man. Cancer. She’s…she’s probably not going to beat it. The chemo helps, but…and the bills are just too damn ridiculous. I had to do something.”
She could see Jack reaching for the door handle, likely intending to go inside to see what sort of drugs Charlie Foster was hiding. He looked a bit more upset about the way this had all played out than Rachel had expected.
“Mr. Foster, just as a second-hand matter, can you tell us what you were doing yesterday afternoon between the hours of four and six?”
At first, he seemed perplexed by the question but then put some thought into it. “I worked until five thirty yesterday. I left work and headed to Bull’s Bar—this bar me and Rosalie go to.”
“Where do you work?
“Townsend’s Auto Glass and Repair.”
“So there would be at least one or two people to confirm that you were indeed there yesterday afternoon?”
“Yeah. At least five.”
“And how far away from work is the bar?”
“Maybe five minutes. It’s why we go there…because it’s so close to my work.”
“Was it busy when you got there?” Rachel asked.
“Not really. Maybe a dozen or so people. But what does any of that have to do with anything?”
“Maybe nothing,” Rachel said. “Just checking on something.”
With a heavy sigh, Jack finally opened up his door. “Well, I’m going to head inside for bit to look those places over. I’ll be right back.”
He closed the door a bit harder than was necessary and when he made his way back to the house, Rachel saw the rigid way he walked. He was irritated and upset, likely for a number of different reasons. She couldn’t help but feel bad, but at the same time, he’d brought some of it on himself.
And speaking of feeling bad for people, she glanced back at Charlie Foster. He was also watching Jack walk back to his house and, like Jack, there was a defeated posture to him. Rachel’s heart actually went out to the man; he’d been pushed to dealing drugs to help pay for his mother’s medical bills. She supposed maybe his financial situation was why he’d had such a severe reaction when Life Fulfilled had informed him about the waiting list.
She sat with Charlie Foster in silence, both of them now looking to the house as Jack stepped inside to investigate a crime they’d accidentally stumbled into—all while their killer was still free.
***
With a much more agreeable Charlie Foster in the back of the bureau sedan, Jack drove Rachel home. When they exchanged a tense and brief goodbye, Charlie didn’t even seem to notice, and Rachel assumed he was far too bogged down in his own thoughts, probably starting to worry about his immediate future.
Rachel walked through her front door just after 7:30. Grandma Tate and Paige were talking together in the kitchen. Rachel joined them, finding them huddled around a bowl of popcorn. She saw two plates in the sink, smeared with red from a simple spaghetti dinner.
“Mommy!” Paige said, upon seeing her. She rushed over and gave her mother a hug, munching popcorn the entire time.
“Hey, Paige. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here this evening.”
“That’s okay. I went over to Suzanne’s house. We played Animal Crossing and then went outside and jumped rope. And then Grandma made spaghetti and then popcorn!”
“I see. Sounds like you had a pretty great afternoon.”
Paige nodded as she returned back to the bowl of popcorn. Rachel joined them at the table and the following fifteen minutes were spent with Paige recounting her day. They also took turns trying to toss popcorn in each other’s mouths. Paige seemed very happy, probably as happy as she’d been ever since her father had walked away. And as this understanding settled on her, Rachel realized that she hadn’t spoken to him in three weeks. They’d have to speak about how to carry on to start divorce proceedings soon enough and she wondered how to go about it while keeping Paige out of all of the drama.
As 8 o’clock came around, Paige headed upstairs to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. With the sound of her footfalls over their heads on the second floor, Rachel and Grandma Tate tidied up for dinner. As she set the now-empty popcorn bowl in the sink, Rachel looked over to Grandma Tate, quite certain that things had seemed at least slightly off with her ever since she’d returned home.
“I really do appreciate you helping me out this afternoon.”
Grandma Tate shrugged it off, as if it were really no big deal at all. “One of the reasons I came to stay with you was so I could help you out.” She paused and leaned against the kitchen counter, a frown on her face. “Of course, I had no idea that you intended to keep working. Now, I’m inclined to say it’s none of my business, but seeing as how Paige is my great-granddaughter, I suppose it is partly my business. Your time is short and though she may not be acutely aware of it, she will come to understand it one day. She’ll come to understand than in your final days, you continued to choose work over her.”
“But that’s not what I’m doing.” She was close to tears, maybe because the comments were a little closer to the truth than she cared to admit.