Page 67 of Married With Lies

It’s possible that there’s nothing more than a carjacking gone wrong, like the news articles said. Then again, there are also online articles describing how a gas station clerk in Arizona shot two local lowlifes during an armed robbery.

The truth, as I know firsthand, can be revised.

Or maybe I’m just fucking paranoid and my uncle has other shit on his mind.

“Come to the house when you’re back,” says Richie. “Donna will make her lasagna. And she’ll want to show you the six hundred pictures she took while we were down in Florida.”

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

Turns out the one who has had other shit on his mind is me. Somewhere between getting shot and winding up at Sadie’s front gate I forgot what my brother had told me about Richie taking our aunt on an anniversary trip to Florida.

I haven’t spoken to my brother. He has no clue about the shooting. I couldn’t tell him that. Or about why dealing with the police is something to be avoided.

“And how was the Florida trip?” I’m hoping Richie will answer that he didn’t have time to catch up with Luca.

“Meh, a little too warm for my taste but it was good to see the kid. Luca’s got a few more weeks left until his last exams and then he’s done. Don’t worry, when your name came up I didn’t tell him nothing bad. Just said you were taking a week off with your new wife. I think he liked hearing that. Couldn’t stop grinning and shaking his head and saying he couldn’t believe you’d settled down.”

“It’s the truth.” I don’t have a shred of guilt about lying to Richie but I’m deeply unsettled at the thought of him hanging out with my brother.

“Yeah, we were talking about her. We all agreed Sadie must be some kind of special girl. How long until you bring her back to New York with you for good?”

Flattening the last of my clothes in the suitcase, I zip it shut. “I’m working on it.”

“Keep working,” Richie says. “And bring your appetite for that lasagna.”

I pocket my phone and try to shake off the troubled shadows crowding my mind. Richie’s time in Florida was short and Luca is busy. They couldn’t have been in the same room for more than a couple of hours. I’m overreacting. My brother’s got a good head on his shoulders and he has plans of his own. Nothing that Richie whispers in his ear will make an impression.

Yanking the duffel bag of cash from beneath the bed and returning my gun to its holster feels like a heavy chore. Like I’m returning to the grey doom of an office cubicle after a sunny sea cruise.

This room, perpetually decorated like it’s the night before Halloween, looks as silly and over the top as it did when I arrived. I’ve left no trace of my stay, which should make Gus, the world’s only known Halloween-obsessed vet, quite happy.

I can’t figure out the feeling twisting around in my gut when I leave this room for the last time and carry my bags out to the car. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I’m sorry to leave.

There’s plenty of activity at Bright Hearts Ranch today. A group of dogs are enjoying playtime. Two of the horses are basking in the sunshine. Peggy is raking dirt in a small fenced in patch of land that’s probably a garden in the summer.

“Hey there, Mr. Wingate.” Jasper walks by with a large red bag of dogfood slung over his shoulder.

I’ve grown used to being greeted by the incorrect name every day. I’ll miss it a little.

“Have you seen Sadie?” I ask him.

He rolls the bag from his shoulder and thinks. “She was in the barn talking to Abby, the new vet tech, and then I think she was feeding the cats.”

“So she’s with the cats?”

“No, after that she was sitting at the desk inside The Doghouse, typing on a laptop and saying how much she hates paperwork.”

“I’ll go to The Doghouse then.”

“Wait, she said she had to run inside to put the laptop away.”

“And was that the end of her journey?”

He blinks. “I don’t know. It was like twenty minutes ago.”

“All right. Thanks, Jasper.”

“You bet, Mr. Wingate.” He picks up the bag of dog food.

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