“What’s this going to entail, exactly?” Vince asked.

Casey pulled out the instructions and read them aloud. “Remove swab from sleeve. Rinse mouth with warm water before collecting sample. Swab the inside of one cheek with firm, up-and-down motions. Close swab inside provided cup immediately. One sample per cup only,” he read aggressively, the final step set in all caps.

“Easy enough,” Vince said, and the two of them swished their mouths out at the sink. The whole thing was done inside a minute.

“Cool. Now just sign this paper,” Casey said, finding the form with Vince’s name at the top.

He considered asking Vince to walk their mom through the paperwork and the swab, but he knew deep down that was cowardly, so he gathered the form and the cup and a glass of water and headed for the den.

Sure as the sun rising, she was awake, glued to an infomercial. Or to the glow of the screen, anyhow—only God knew if she was actually retaining any of what was flashing by.

“Morning, Mom. You sleep okay?”

Her gaze moved slowly to his face. Here was where things turned either heartwarming or heartbreaking—fifty-fifty chance, lately.

“Good morning,” she said slowly, and finally added, “Casey.”

A wave of relief rolled through him at that. More and more, she recognized him. It was progress you couldn’t discount, not when the first time she’d seen him after he’d come back to town, she’d shot him in the leg, thinking he was a burglar.

“Can you do me a favor, Mom? It’ll only take a minute.”

“Oh,” she said spacily, slowly, attention drifting back to the screen, “I suppose I could.”

“Great. Just take a drink from this,” he said, handing her the glass. He let her drain it in a half dozen lethargic swallows. “Great. Now I just need you to open your mouth real wide so I can rub this Q-tip on your cheek, okay?”

“Q-tip?”

“It’s for the dentist,” he lied. What was he supposed to say? You probably don’t realize it, but you’ve gone completely batshit and now I need to figure out if I’m doomed to follow in your footsteps. Open wide. “Won’t take a second.”

“If you say so.”

She opened her mouth and he held her cheek, her skin cool and papery, a little eerie. Man, she’d been beautiful when she’d still been lucid. Prettiest woman in town, everybody had agreed. Now she was just a ghost, floating through the days with her brain half-gone, the rest of it lost to whatever was on the TV or outside the window, her once-red hair faded almost completely to white. Casey checked his own head for grays at least once a week, thinking they were as good an indicator of his chances at insanity as any. So far, none.

“Perfect,” he said, sealing the swab. “And now I just need you to sign this paper, down here. To tell the dentist that he can check your Q-tip, okay?”

“The dentist?” She looked perplexed but took the pen willingly enough and signed her name, the signature a faint, loose shadow of its old self. How many times Casey had practiced and faked that signature, he cared not to guess. Probably as many times as he’d been sent home with detention slips.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Come and watch the news,” she said in that unnerving ethereal voice, and patted the cushion beside hers. “There’s so much happening in the world.”

He eyed the screen, the logo of the shopping channel in the bottom corner. “Wish I could, but I have to get to the post office, then back to work. But Nita will be here soon. She likes the news.” Or barring that, great deals on faux-sapphire jewelry.

“Yes. Nita.”

He bent down and kissed her cheek, the sensation leaving him cautiously proud these days—not as unsettled as it had at first, when he’d come home. He was growing used to how her skin felt now, how she smelled. His mother was gone and she was never coming back, but he could do his duty, pay his respects to the living, walking effigy she’d become. “Bye.”

In the kitchen, he sealed the cups and papers up in the padded plastic envelope that had come with the kit, preprinted with express postage. Last step, drop them off in a mailbox. Last step until the time came to hear the results. He swallowed, stomach souring. Blamed it on two cups of black coffee and no food.

“So when do you hear?” Vince asked.

“Soon. They’ll schedule a call after this makes it down to fucking Palo Alto.” Casey tossed the instructions and the scraps of plastic wrap and the box in the trash, then made for the door. “Later, motherfucker. Say hi to Nita and Kim for me.”

“Will do.”

He pulled up at the post office, said a little prayer to a god he had zero right to be asking any favors of, and dropped the box into the slot. And with that, there was nothing more to be done on that front except wait.

As he hit the road once more and aimed himself east, he couldn’t say if he’d expected to feel lighter or heavier with that package turned over to fate. What he did feel for sure, though, was surprise. Surprise that he’d just pulled the trigger like that, when he was pretty certain that even a week ago he’d have found a hundred reasons to procrastinate on the task and let that package collect dust on some shelf. Things had changed, in recent days. He’d changed, though in exactly what ways, he couldn’t yet say.

He had two phones on him this morning—his relatively public one that the Desert Dogs and Abilene had the number for, then the shady untraceable one that Emily and his other bygone business contacts—and now James Ware—had. And he knew which was ringing now from the mere pitch of the buzzing at his hip. If it was Ware, the guy had one fucking massive nerve on him.

Casey swerved to a hairy stop at the shoulder of the quiet highway and killed his engine, whipped the phone out. Private, as always.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Ware. I’m ready to talk.”

Casey laughed into the bright morning light, steam rising. “Oh, are you? That’s fucking hilarious, considering how shy you got last night.”

“’Scuse me?”

“Who told you where she was staying?”

“Listen, Grossier, I got no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just following your fucking orders here. You going to facilitate this shit or what?”

“You tell me which motherfucker told you where she’s at, and maybe we’ll find out.”

“Listen,” Ware said again, voice jabbing like a finger in the sternum. “I got fuck-all clue what you think I got up to last night, but whatever it is, you’ve got it wrong. Now, you tell me how this is going to work, and I’ll play by your rules. Just let me talk to her. I’m way better at threats than begging, but hey, I’ll pucker up and kiss your ass and say pretty please, if that’s what it’s going to goddamn take.”

Casey frowned, a touch upended. Stay cool. Don’t fuck up. Don’t mention the ranch. “Fine. A phone call. You call this number at nine o’clock sharp, tonight, and I’ll have her there.” Arguing with the guy himself wasn’t getting anybody any closer to figuring out his game, anyhow.

“Fine,” Ware spat. “Nine o’clock.”

“Fine,” Casey echoed, and ended the call. He bellowed a cuss up into the blue sky, resisted the urge to slam that fucking phone down against the asphalt.

Chapter 12

The sky outside the guest room was bright blue as Abilene’s eyes blinked open, the day already in full swing. Her stomach rumbled. Best to get herself fed before the baby got the same idea.

She dressed Mercy in a fleece onesie and lugged her out onto the landing, smelling bacon. No doubt any leftovers would be cold by now, any eggs already devoured, but a cup of coffee and some toast would be welcome. And some company.

Casey had woken her when he’d risen at five, but she’d pretended to be asleep. She’d strained for a muttered cuss, for any tiny sign that he might have regretted waking up in her bed, but nothing. He’d just slipped out quietly to take care of his errands, leaving an all-too-fleeting warm patch on his side of the mattress.