Page 80 of Ace

"That's scary good," Jericho says.

"I guess we should be glad he's one of the good guys," I mutter.

Hemlock's phone rings again, and he answers, automatically putting it on speaker phone.

"I figured you'd go after the guy," Wren says. "So know that he's currently in Columbia, South Carolina, not in Topeka."

"Fuck," I mutter. "Cora."

Chapter 34

Cora

"I trust your judgment, Cora. I always have."

I turn my head to look at Faye. The sincerity in her words isn't what makes me pause. It's the fact that we're trying to decide between sandwiches or salads for lunch that confuses me because of her tone.

This isn't that big of a deal, but from the sound of her voice, it's like I asked her about paint colors for her bedroom or something even more serious like what color Sadie's casket should be.

It's Monday, and I called into work even though today was the day I had planned on going back when I took my leave last week to go to DC. Alice didn't seem concerned that I wouldn't be returning, and it left me considering that maybe I don't have to be as hands-on involved with Chapter One as I have been for years in order for it to operate like normal. It's a slap to the face for all the hours I've logged at the office, but that's my own issue to deal with. I can't fault Alice for being able to do what I've done in fewer hours in a more efficient manner.

Maybe it is time for a change.

"I think sandwiches," I tell her as I shift things around in the refrigerator to find the items needed to make the meal.

I pull out turkey, pre-cooked bacon, a tomato, and a bag of lettuce that states on the package that it's organic. But I know it has been in here since before I left for DC and it hasn't so muchas wilted, making me question the validity of the claim on the packaging.

I haven't mentioned Sadie again and neither has she. I honestly think that she doesn't remember that a man came to the house two evenings ago and announced that the younger Preston daughter was deceased, and selfishly, I can't go through her hearing it again for the first time.

As often as I've considered speaking with her about getting her some help here at the house, I've also avoided it. She's a very independent woman, and I know it's going to be an argument, one I just can't handle right now.

But, it's not like I have plans to go very far from home, so I can keep an eye on her until we get through Sadie's burial and everything that entails before focusing on the next issue.

"Can you get the bread for me?" I ask as I pull out the cutting board so I can slice the tomato.

"We have no bread," she says as she lifts her glass of whiskey to her mouth.

"Of course we have bread," I argue, coming around the end of the counter and going into the pantry.

But alas, there's no bread on the shelf which is crazy because Eddie joked about the brand I used when we made breakfast a few days ago, and it was a new loaf.

"No bread," I mutter as I leave the pantry.

"Told you."

I pull in a deep breath. She could've mentioned there being no bread when we were deciding between sandwiches and salads for lunch.

"I'll have to make a trip to the grocery store," I say as I leave the produce out on the counter. Many of the ingredients I needed for the salad I was going to include on our sandwiches, so I guess it's not that much wasted time.

"Can you grab me a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black?"

I stare at her, but really the woman has made it to her late eighties with her daily alcohol consumption. I don't really see a pointin arguing with her about her health now. Besides, it would be a waste of breath.

She convinced me once when I was trying to stop drinking sodas that she would stop drinking whiskey in solidarity. When I ran into her in the hallway on day five late at night because I was restless and feeling horrible from the lack of caffeine, she argued with me about the scent of whiskey on her breath. She had the nerve to tell me I was projecting and I should see someone about my issues.

Looking back now, I can laugh about it, but I think she suffered worse withdrawals from the lack of alcohol than I did from caffeine and sodas. Plus, I just replaced my caffeine with coffee, and haven't looked back. It's been five years, not long after Dad's heart attack since I've had a soda.

"I can get you some whiskey," I tell her. "What else do we need?"

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