Page 83 of Pretty Nightmare

“Why do I care about this woman?”

“Because I’m telling you to care, that’s why.”

I say nothing for a few seconds and Wendy, ever the patient little killer, waits me out. “Fine. Tell me about this fucking woman.”

“She wasn’t Company, but her death got on our radar anyway.”

“So why are you just telling me this now?”

“Jesus Christ. Never mind. I’ll text you the details about Nathan.”

She hangs up on me and I just stare at the phone for a moment. Then the horn honks and makes me jump. And when I look through the windshield I see Maggie smiling at me.

The ride home is quiet. Maggie sleeps almost the whole way, only waking up when we get to the little town of Snake River where our church is. We don’t stop at church. We get donuts. This is what we usually do on Sundays. And we have a little time to kill, actually, since McKay won’t be expecting us home until nearly eleven. So we go inside and I have a coffee and bear claw and Maggie gets her usual too—one of those pink frosted donuts that make my teeth hurt just looking at them and an apple juice.

She’s still a little kid in some ways. Not many. But this is one of them.

Even though we’ve only been back in Louisiana for a few months we’re locals here. The donut people remember me from days gone by when this was Indie sitting next to me instead of Maggie.

I see all the questions in their eyes. They want to ask who this girl is. This girl who’s just like the other one I used to bring in here.

I don’t think they ever assumed Indie was my daughter. We’re too close in age. But they probably thought she was my sister.

At any rate, all this careful planning goes completely unnoticed when we arrive back at Old Home. We catch a glimpse of McKay working on something in the back of the shed where he keeps his tools now, suited up in one of those welder suits that make me sweat just thinking about the heat coming from the torch in his hand. And Indie isn’t around.

Donovan left last night to… I dunno. Whatever the fuck he does when he leaves. So he was never part of the return-home plan.

But neither McKay nor Indie bother to greet us as we cautiously get out of the truck and look around, ready to tell all the lies.

We shrug and ease back into our normal routine. “Go change,” I tell her. “And put the donuts in the kitchen. I’ll go see what McKay’s doing.”

She skips off without comment. Then I remember the money in her purse, but she’s already too far away to call out instructions on that regard. So I let it go and turn towards the shed.

I find McKay in the back of the huge outbuilding we call the shed, where we saw him when we pulled up, totally engrossed in his project. Which is some kind of metal sculpture.

It takes him almost a whole minute to notice me, which is disappointing in a couple of ways. But I don’t want to think about that shit right now.

Finally, he sees me and he dials the torch down and lifts the faceplate of his welding helmet up to smile. “You’re back.”

“Yup.” I keep it simple, unsure if he knew we left in the middle of the night or not. It was his night to watch Indie, so she slept in his bed last night. And I know he likes those nights. Not that I suspect they are getting up to any funny business. It was McKay’s idea to keep things platonic with Indie until we sort out whatever the fuck it is we’re doing with her.

“How was church?” He asks this same question every time Maggie and I come home. Hell, he asked this same question every time Indie and I came home too.

I let that sink in for a moment. The entirety of it. The length of time that we’ve been doing this.

Has there ever been a time when we weren’t in charge of the care and feeding of a little girl?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - McKAY

I put my welding helmet aside and take off my gloves. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Why’s that?” Adam leans against a long wooden workbench, folding his arms across his chest. He seems to be in a good mood.

“Because I wanted to apologize. About the conversation we had in the truck last night.”

Adam just shrugs. “She’s mine, McKay.”

“I know,” I say simply. “I get it.”