I Let a Homeless Teen Borrow My Phone at a Gas Station* What He Whispered Before Handing It Back Made My Blood Run Cold

A new lock on David’s home office, brass and clean.

He’d had it installed while I was on a double shift.

A business card I’d found in his coat for a lawyer specializing in elder and estate law.

He’d waved it off as a referral for an elderly patient.

A new lock on David’s home office.

“Nothing to do with us,” he had said.

I had believed him.

I pulled off at the gas station.

I always filled up on Tuesdays.

I swiped my card and let the pump do its slow work.