8:07 a.m. Unslept and famished but without appetite, Rath sat in his Scout outside the Canaan Police Department, wondering about Barrons’s mysterious need to see him first thing this morning, and his mention of Rath’s arrest. Before he went into the station, Rath phoned Rachel. Incredibly, she picked up. “Hey,” she said. “Sorry my message last night was so sappy.”
“Sap makes sweet syrup.”
“Now that’s sappy,” she said. It was an old exchange, comforting. Normal. “Where were you when I called?” she said. “You always pick up.”
Her question surprised and pleased Rath. It was the question he was supposed to ask her, most often receiving a sigh that implied she didn’t have to keep her father abreast of her every move.
He pondered confessing to her that he had been watching Preacher. It might put her at ease; it might upset her, too, to know he felt Preacher needed constant observation.
“I fell asleep. You OK?”
“I had pretty much a normal day yesterday, other than living among doilies at the inn.” She laughed, her signature snort that reminded Rath of the times as a kid she’d laugh so hard she’d snort strawberry milk at breakfast. Except the laugh felt false now, a cover for worry. She was worried.
“Those dastardly doilies,” Rath said.
“They’re awful,” Rachel said, pausing, tentative. “When you go grab me new clothes, could you maybe see about a jacket? My peacoat is drenched and weighs a million tons. I can’t put it in a dryer, and I can’t wear Felix’s jackets, I swim in his clothes and— If you can’t, I’ll figure it out. There’s a secondhand shop in Johnson that’s—”
“I’m on it. Promise.” He’d forgotten about the Dress Shoppe, but he was happy to perform a common act of devotion, especially now when every exchange with Rachel, every deed carried out on her behalf, felt tainted with the radioactive presence of Preacher. He knew his daughter well enough to realize her mention of the clothes and jacket was not out of a real pressing need for new clothes, but an attempt to establish normalcy amid lunacy.
“OK?” Rachel said. But Rath had missed what she said.
“What? You broke up for a second,” Rath lied.
“I said sorry. I swear I didn’t call to pester you about clothes or a jacket, really.”
“I’m on it. Promise.”
“I just wanted to check in.”
Check in.
She was beyond worried.
She was scared.