Page 11 of Confessions of the Dead

Please don’t cry.

Please don’t cry.

Lynn could deal with the name-calling, had no trouble forgetting the ones who hung up on her, but the people who cried? They were the worst.

“That’s when the cancer first appeared,” the woman said. “A year ago. Springton was Lou’s first treatment center. First of four.”

Down the hall, Oscar shouted, and that was quickly followed by a scream from Gracie. Lynn cupped her hands over her headphones and pressed them against her ears. Her blood felt hot and itchy under her skin, carried by ants too large for her veins.

Her screen updated with a new response, and Lynn wasn’tsure she could read it. She could hang up. Let the system call this woman back and connect her to someone else. Maybe she should do that. When Lynn hesitated a little too long, a new message box appeared:

This call is eligible for the 20% collection bonus! You got this!

Lynn closed the message box and scanned the system’s response again. If she didn’t do it, someone else would. Someone would collect that 20 percent. Why not her? She snapped the rubber band again, did her best to block the emotions roiling in her gut, and read the computer-generated text. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Pacheco, you guaranteed payment to the treatment center with the title of your home. If you are unwilling to make a payment with me today, you’ll be at risk of foreclosure. I can prevent that with a payment of $236.81. Do you have your wallet handy? Any major credit card is acceptable.”

“And when would the next payment be due?”

Lynn checked the system. “One week.”

“One week.”

Lynn pulled the rubber band back as far as it would go, let it snap down on her wrist with acrack!and then did it again. “Yes. How would you like to cover it, Mrs. Pacheco?”

The woman’s voice began to break. “Do you have a family? Are you married?”

“No,” Lynn lied. Beneath her desk, her left foot was tapping like a jackrabbit. Her leg bouncing with it, smacking the underside of the drawer. She willed it to stop, and that was worse, like she shut off a tap and the anxious energy had no place to go, pressed against her insides, inflated like a balloon. Maybe ten seconds passed before her foot started again.

“Of course not. You couldn’t do this for a living if you did.If you cared for someone or had someone in your life who cared about you. There’s no way you could treat other people this way.”

Lynn didn’t respond to that. She knew better. She’d been trained to ignore the bait, stick to the script.

Down the hall, Gracie screamed again, and this time she didn’t stop. She held it out for nearly a full minute—one long, high-pitched shrill. Lynn smashed down her Mute button somewhere in the middle of it. If the woman heard, she didn’t say anything. She was going to pay, Lynn could feel it. She snapped the rubber band again, barely felt it this time. “I need your credit card number, Mrs. Pacheco.”

“You’re a horrible person. I hope you burn in hell,” the woman replied and slammed down the phone.

New message box:

Congratulations! You earned $1.37!

Lynn didn’t remember taking the pill bottles from the drawer. She certainly didn’t remember opening them and lining up one of each next to her keyboard, but there they were. For one brief second, she thought maybe she forgot to take them when she first came in. She’d been half asleep.

Gracie’s marathon scream finally came to an end, and both kids went quiet.

Lynn shoved all three pills in her mouth and swallowed. This time, she felt the effects immediately. Maybe her imagination, maybe not. Maybe she had taken the pills earlier … maybe not. She didn’t remember and didn’t much care. The warmth, numbness … that would come next. That would get her through—

Another scream—Oscar this time.

“Stop!”Lynn shouted out, yelled it as loud as she could.“Shut the hell up!”

The silence that followed was harsh and sharp, abrupt.

Lynn mashed her mouse button down on the Connect link and took another call. “Am I speaking to Louis Martinez?”

Her words came out fast, spilled from her mouth.

Heavy breathing filled the line, nothing else.

“Mr. Martinez?”

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