The screen showed that Desmond was calling.

I sat in the driver’s seat and let the phone ring.

He was probably calling to tell me Ranata was moving out.

Desmond had stood in my parents’ kitchen last night and quietly admitted he knew about the theft.

His cowardly silence had paid for their luxury cars and expensive spa days.

The screen went dark.

He didn’t leave a voicemail.

I put the new truck in gear and drove toward the Oakhaven strip mall.