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“Then I’ll be back in a couple hours.” He folded the lists and slid them into his hip pocket, grabbed his nephew’s coat from the back of a chair and picked up his own jacket. He was passing the wall-mounted phone when it rang again, and though Natalie moved as if to answer, he picked it up. “Hello.”
There wasn’t silence on the line—he could hear voices in the background, the sound of a bell—but whoever had called apparently didn’t want to talk. After a few seconds the line went dead. “Nobody again,” he said as he hung up, then headed for the door. “See you, Nat.”
He’d made the drive into town so many thousands of time that he swore he could do it blindfolded. He didn’t have to think about traffic, his speed or where to turn—it was as if his truck was on autopilot—which meant he had all that time to let his mind wander.
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