The image went black.
No one moved.
The only sound was the fan in the back corner of the storage unit, its blades clicking once per rotation. I had noticed that click earlier without understanding why it bothered me. Now it seemed unbearable, an imperfect little machine insisting on continuing.
Jonah was the first to speak. “How many times did he move?”
Wade looked at him.
“You said you would move him if we found out. How many times?”
“Twice.”
Elise’s head snapped up. “Someone found him?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
Wade sank onto the folding chair beside the shelves. He looked older sitting down, shoulders rounded, palms open between his knees. “The first hospice was in Wilmington. Randall used his middle name on some nonmedical paperwork where he could, but there are limits to how invisible a person can be when hospitals and insurance are involved. He got frightened after Elise came to see him at the rental house.”
