The soft satin christening gown was tucked against the side pocket, folded neatly, white and completely free of dirt.

I slid my thumb across the glass of my phone, keeping the screen down in the shadow of my lap.

There was a text from Carl, sent straight from the gas station office.

“District man is standing at register two boss,” it said.

“He wants to know why cash drawer three is empty and where you are.”

I could see Carl standing by the cigarette display, tapping his wooden clipboard against his leg while he tried to invent an excuse for me.

A second text appeared right under the first before I could shut off the screen.