Chapter five

I had thirteen hundred cases of noodles and no weapon.

"A crossbow," I told the man behind the counter at Dunn's Outdoor & Surplus. "Four hundred bolts. Two hatchets, paracord, and a medical kit."

His name tag said GREG. He had a red face and a ponytail, and he looked me up and down.

"Honey, hunting gear is for hunters."

"I'm a customer."

"You're a girl with a list. Where's your husband?"

"Divorced."

"Figures." He raised his voice. "Calder! Take care of her. And don't oversell. She'll bring it all back by Friday."

A man came out of the back room. He was in his mid-thirties, with buzzed dark hair and a faded medic's patch on his jacket. He read my list and looked at me.

"What are you hunting?"

"Plot holes."

His mouth twitched. "The crossbow's the quiet option."

Rhys Calder. In chapter thirty-nine, the author gave him one paragraph. He held the pharmacy door on Alder Street so the others could run, and he was never seen again. I had read that page twice, hoping somebody would hold a funeral for him. Nobody did. In my review, I'd written: worth ten of Damon.

I took a pen and wrote on the back of a receipt: Tomorrow morning, the city will announce a boil-water advisory. Then I slid it across the counter.

"Don't open it until the radio says it's true."

"Calder," Greg snapped. "Stop wasting time. You're on thin ice already."

Rhys didn't look at him. "She's paying, Greg."

"I said stop wasting time."

"I said she's paying."

"You're fired."

The shop went quiet. A customer by the knives pretended to study a hatchet.

"Oh, good," I said. "That saves time. How much does he make?"

Greg blinked. "Why does that matter?"

"Because I'm buying everything on that wall. Crossbows, bolts, knives, first-aid kits. Full retail." I put my cashier's check on the counter. "And I'd like to hire Mr. Calder. Double whatever you were paying him."

Greg stared at the check. He did the math. Then he did it again, and his whole face changed.

"Yes, ma'am. Absolutely, ma'am. Calder, help the lady carry it out."

"You should stand up straighter, Greg," I said over my shoulder. "I'd hate for you to hurt your back from all that bowing."

The woman by the knives made a small, delighted sound.

Rhys carried the first crate out to my van. "Where did you learn to haggle?"

"A one-star review."

He almost smiled. Then his eyes went flat. "Why did you write that on a receipt?"

"Read it tomorrow," I said. "Then call me."

Greg came jogging out of the store with a clipboard. "Mr. Calder! Rhys! About earlier. I spoke in the heat of the moment. You're still on the schedule, buddy."

"I thought I was fired."

"That was a misunderstanding!"

"It's a good thing I'm so understanding," Rhys said, and shut the van door in his face.

I looked at Rhys. "You're good at that."

"I've been practicing for three years."

"The radio says the water plant on Delmar has a precautionary issue," Rhys said on the phone the next morning. "Boil-water advisory. Exactly what your receipt said."

"I know."

"How do you know?"

"I read it in a book."

There was a long silence on the line. "Tell me about the book."

So I told him everything, from the one-star review to the pharmacy. When I finished, he was quiet again.

"The pharmacy," he said slowly. "Tomorrow."

"In the afternoon. Someone will ask you to hold a door."

"And I hold it."

"You hold it."

"Then I'll be there," Rhys said. "I'm not saying I believe you. I'm saying I'm not letting you stand on Alder Street alone."

I almost laughed, and it cracked in the middle. "Deal."

He showed up at my motel an hour later with the crossbow already unboxed. We went to the empty lot behind the building, where he set a paint can on a stack of pallets.

"Feet apart. Elbows in. Don't pull the trigger, squeeze it."

My first bolt hit the wall. My second hit the pallet.

"You're thinking about the target," Rhys said. "Think about what you want to happen after."

I thought about a pharmacy door. The third bolt went through the can.

"Huh," he said. "You're a quick study."

"I'm a very motivated one."

He lowered his voice. "If tomorrow goes the way you say, what do I need to bring?"

"Your medical bag. Your keys. And whatever you'd want in your hands if the whole street panicked at once."

"That's not a list, Vera. That's a prayer."

"It's both," I said, and handed him the crossbow. "Your turn."

He hit the can on the first try, and then on the second, and then he looked at me for a long time without saying anything.

That night, someone knocked on my motel door. Damon stood in the rain, and Lily was clinging to his arm, soaked to the skin.

"Vera." His voice was hoarse. "Lily's been having bad dreams about tomorrow. You have money now, and connections. Please. Let us stay with you."

"I have a bad feeling," Lily whispered. For once, she didn't sound like she was acting.

"A bad feeling," I repeated.

"Please, Vera," Damon said. "We have nowhere else to go."

"You had a house. You had a mother with a guest room. You had a wife you didn't want." I held the door half closed. "Ask Margaret."

"She won't answer my calls!"

"Then you know how it feels."

"Vera—"

"My motel, my rules. I don't rent rooms to men who throw their wives out of the car."

Damon's mouth fell open. "That was one time—"

"Goodnight."

I shut the door and stood listening to them argue in the hallway until their footsteps faded.

I hadn't done it for revenge. I'd done it because I knew how the story ended, and I had spent twelve days making sure I wouldn't be standing there with nothing.

I took Vera's mother's pearls out of my pocket and put them on.

"Theo's waiting for a phone call about a cake," I said to the empty room. "Mom's cleaning offices tonight. And you died in one paragraph."

Nobody answered. Then pale text floated in the air in front of me.

QUEST: Save Rhys Calder. Alder Street pharmacy. Tomorrow afternoon.

REWARD: Chicken coop.

I laughed, because it was absurd. Then I stopped, because I understood.

"The author gave him one paragraph," I said. "I'll give him a better one."

I turned off the light.

Sixteen hours.