For several seconds, the only sounds were a running car engine and the rhythmic clicking of a turn signal. Then Vanessa finally spoke.
“Natalie, Dad died last night.”
Dad stopped chewing and looked directly at me. I stared back at him before quietly putting the call on speaker.
“When?”
“Sometime overnight. Harold found him.”
The mention of Harold Pike seemed carefully chosen. Harold had been Dad’s closest friend for forty years and had once owned the local funeral home, so if Vanessa wanted to make a fabricated death sound convincing, his name was perfect.
“What happened?”
Vanessa sighed impatiently.
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