Clara found a forged receipt for forty thousand dollars

ribs.

“We’re going to get through this,” Donald said, his voice thick with a warmth that felt entirely manufactured. “I’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

Clara smiled back at him, her skin crawling at the cold calculation in his eyes.

The back door of the Oak Creek Diner was propped open with a rusted tomato juice can when I arrived at half past eight continue reading …