Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
“We need to leave the wall hooks,” I said, noticing the small brass nails driven into the drywall. “The rental agreement says we have to patch them or lose the deposit.”
“Ryan is not going to patch them,” Shaun said, leaning against the doorframe.
“Then I will,” I said, pulling a small tub of spackle from my bag.
“You do not owe him a clean wall, Chloe,” Shaun said.
“I owe it to myself,” I said, smoothing a fingerful of the white paste over the first nail hole. “I do not want him having any excuse to call me.”
“He is going to call you anyway,” Shaun said. “The minute he walks in that door.”
“The phone will be off,” I said, moving to the next photo of my mother holding Luna on the back porch.
“He knows where Elm Lane is,” Shaun said.
“He does not think anyone can live there,” I said. “He told me last month that the place was a dump and should be torn down.”
“He was wrong about that,” Shaun said. “The roof is solid now.”
