And she told herself sternly what she had just that morning. A half-dozen times.
Don’t think about it.
Drying herself. A towel turbaned around her hair. Another enwrapping her body.
Thinking of the SpongeBob boob towel.
The calculus problems that her genius daughter nailed.
The plans for pizza and learning about Kyle.
The final moments before the world exploded.
Was it yesterday, or ten years ago? Or a hundred?
She stepped into the chill room. She’d left Hannah snoozing but the girl was up now, channel surfing.
How would her mood be?
Warming Parker’s heart, Hannah smiled. “Hey!”
“Morning, sleepyhead.”
Parker noted that the chain was off the door.
“You went out?”
“Just the front office. For breakfast. They don’t have any here.”
Parker hadn’t expected Sunny Acres to offer up gourmet fare, though she’d hoped they could score coffee, tea and pastry.
“But the clerk? He said there’s this diner up the road. It’s, like, famous. And they deliver.” She handed her mother a menu and announced, “I want waffles.”
40
Moll undid his tie and opened his shirt. He navigated the Benadryl up under the cloth and blasted his shoulders, which were the itchier parts today.
The burning migrated. Neck and arms yesterday. Chest a few days ago. What the hell was it, and how did it happen?
He felt some relief thanks to the miracle substance.
“Allergy’s getting worse?”
“Just will not go away,” he told Desmond.
Moll had asked himself the where-did-it-come-from question a number of times. He finally believed he’d hit upon the answer. He had had a job six weeks or so ago—killing a truck driver. The man had done something he shouldn’t do or was going to say something he shouldn’t say or had pissed off the wrong man, and he had to go. Good money. Desmond was busy so Moll handled it solo. He’d killed the man where he was working on his truck, which was stuck in a tributary to the Kenoah. He’d dragged the body out and then schlepped it miles away to an industrial site, long abandoned, for disposal. Either it was the Kenoah or the reservoir where he sank the corpse that was polluted with some really bad crap. One of the two had to be the source. He never had the problem until then. Heresolved to be more careful about the sites he picked in the future. Then reminded himself to also check with his paint supplier.
The men, coffee cartons in hand, were in the front seats of the Transit. Desmond had put down the willow branch and was on his computer, online, searching for mama bear and baby bear.
Merritt was looking for them too. Nobody was having any luck.
Moll sighed. “Hurry up and wait.”
“What?” Desmond asked.
“That’s what they said in the Army.”
“You weren’t Army.”