“If Garrett asks why you met with me today,” I said, “tell him we talked about concrete delivery schedules.”

“Garrett doesn’t pay my pension,” Pete said.

“And if you find that girl, tell her I’ve still got her office rain jacket in my tool shed.”

“I’ll tell her,” I said.

“Take care of yourself, Raymond,” Pete said, looking at my hands on the table.

“You look like you haven’t slept a full hour since Thanksgiving.”

The autumn sky was dark over the industrial park when Mark Vance came out the side exit of the lab.

He kept his head down and held a thin yellow folder flat against his ribs until he reached the passenger side of my truck.