Page 53 of Wreckage and Rain

Cheyenne is laughing. Her hand is on my chest. Her face is in my neck.

I think I should move my hand off the small of her back.

I can't find my hand.

[skip]

She is saying something against my ear. I can't hear her. The bass is too loud. I lean down because my head is heavy and my ears are clogged. Her mouth is by my cheek. The camera goes off again. She doesn't move. The camera goes off again. She still doesn't move.

Calloway is laughing somewhere behind us. The photographer is moving around the booth.

I want to stand up. I want to find my jacket. I want to find my phone. I want to find my car. I want to find my wife.

I can't stand up.

[skip]

The car.

Black SUV. Town car. One of the firm's. Calloway is up front talking to the driver. The leather is cold against my hand because my hand is heavy and is lying palm-up on the seat. Where is my dad? Did he leave hours ago? When did he leave?

The door opens on the other side of the car.

Cheyenne. Climbing in. Or falling. I think she fell. She is laughing. Her shoes are still off and they are in her hand and her dress is riding up and she is laughing.

Her hand falls onto my chest as she rights herself. It doesn't move.

Outside the SUV, on the sidewalk, somebody on the sidewalk lifts a phone.

Camera flash through the tinted window.

The driver says something I don't catch.

The driver starts the engine.

Cheyenne is leaning her head against my shoulder now.

I close my eyes for one second.

Just one.

Black.

Chapter 12: The Answer

Summer

I stop at a gas station to pee and refill my coffee.

I-95 has a specific kind of gas station, the kind with the over-bright fluorescents and a deli counter that has been making the same sandwiches since 1994 and a clerk who has decided to outlive everyone he sees. I buy a coffee that tastes like the bottom of the pot. I walk back to my car. I sit in the driver's seat and I check my phone before I get back on the road, because I have been ignoring it and the service out here comes and goes.

The first thing I see is the tag.

Bennet Holdings, the firm's official Instagram account, has posted a carousel and tagged me as Colt's wife. Eight photos. Posted at 11:14 PM.

I stare at the notification for a long time.

I don't open it.