“He changed the reservation.”
“To what?”
“I think you should keep going through the box.”
“I think you should answer me.”
“Meryl.”
I slapped the papers down.
“You do not get to say my name like you’re calming a horse.”
He rubbed both hands over his face. “There are things he wanted you to find in an order.”
“He’s dead. His order no longer outranks mine.”
That silenced him.
I picked up the receipt again.
The departure date was nearly a year away from Randall’s diagnosis.
A date he could not possibly have expected to reach.
My birthday was printed beside the passenger information.
I stared at it until the numbers lost meaning.
“Why would he book a trip for me?”
Wade looked at the camera case on the shelf.
I followed his eyes.
It was small, black, and dusty only along one edge.
I knew that camera.
