The remains

Chapter 10

But rush hour traffic was a bear.

By the time I stopped off at the Stagecoach Coffee Shop on State Street for a double latte-to-go, the clock had already reached the back side of nine o’clock. This meant that Robyn would be operating the art center all by her lonesome. Something neither one of us appreciated since the not-for-profit, art patron-funded organization employed only two people to do all the studio tutoring, gallery event planning, bill paying, public relations, and just about everything required of running an art center.

I got back in the Cabriolet with my coffee, headed for the Broadway parking garage and parked in my designated by-the-month rental space. On my way out of the garage, my cell vibrated. Approaching the congested city sidewalk, I dug out the phone and flipped it open.

The screen indicated another new text. I swallowed something and thumbed the OK button that opened the message.

Remember

That one word, like the last time I’d received it, made no sense to me.

Remember what?

What in God’s name was going on?

Per usual I thumbed the OK button that was supposed to reveal the caller’s name and number only to get Unknown Caller.

“Molly,” I whispered, purely out of instinct.

I was becoming more and more convinced Molly was trying to communicate with me from the dead. Maybe it helped me to imagine her living in heaven. But then, what if heaven did not exist?

Distracted by the sudden emptiness I felt, not to mention anxiety, I nearly ran into a tall suited man carrying a black briefcase.

“Watch where you’re going, young lady,” he snapped.

I evil-eyed him as he passed.

“If I knew were I was going,” I said, “I wouldn’t be here.”