Never Coming Home Read online

  Chapter Seven

  “You coming in today?”

  Lincoln looked at the clock, and then mumbled incoherently.

  “What’s that?” asked Bentley.

  Lincoln held the phone closer, just then realizing he’d let it drift away from his face. “I’ll be in later.”

  “My uncle’s coming in soon.”

  “So?”

  Bentley was apprehensive, uncertain how to tactfully urge Lincoln to come to work. “He’s going to want to talk about the site. We launched it last night, like you asked. We’re already starting to get donations, nothing outrageous, but Uncle Danny has some questions for us.”

  “If he gets there before me…” Lincoln decided not to ask Bentley to lie for him. “Never mind. Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”

  He hung up and forced himself out of bed. The room was a mess, with remnants of a midnight fast-food binge on the floor, an overturned cup of barbeque sauce on the carpet, and fries scattered about. His stomach lurched as he stood, but he dutifully headed to the bathroom, ready to vomit while showering if necessary. A familiar act.

  Lincoln paused to look at himself in the mirror above his dresser. His greying hair was sticking up in every direction its short length would allow, and his eyes were bloodshot and squinting, with dark circles beneath that revealed his sour condition.

  His suit pants were on the dresser, carefully folded. For a fleeting moment he considered how his suits and ties were just a costume for a different sort of clown. He ignored the thought as he inspected his pants. They were dirty, caked with mud from his trip down to the stream where Betty’s shoe had been found. He went to the closet and got out a fresh suit before heading to the bathroom.

  A shower and a few swigs of mouthwash later and he felt like a new man. He got dressed and inspected himself in the mirror again, happy with the veneer except for the bags under his eyes. He resolved to pick up eye cream to help with that. The thought of sleeping more and avoiding late night binges never entered his mind.

  It was another bright and sunny day in Boulder, as it often was, but the glare and heat disagreed with him as he emerged from his apartment building. He held his arm up to shield his eyes from the unforgiving sun. It felt like he’d just walked out of a movie theater in the middle of the afternoon.

  His phone rang, and he grumbled as he saw that it was Danny calling. He reluctantly answered.

  “I need you at the office,” said Danny with insistence. “Now. We need to talk.”

  “I’m already on my way. What’s the problem?”

  “Just get here.” Danny hung up, and Lincoln promptly took a detour to a coffee shop to waste some time. He didn’t respond well to commands from people he didn’t respect.