Saturday morning dawned hot, already pushing eighty by nine a.m. The six-pack of beer Cal had drunk the night before was making his head pound, and the heat wasn’t helping. He wished Dad had installed central air. Or even a ceiling fan. How the man had stood the heat was beyond Cal’s comprehension.
Andy called, just like he’d promised. Cal looked at the number on the display before putting the phone down. Andy was one of the last people Cal wanted to talk to right then.
He ignored the subsequent phone calls, too. The first time, Andy waited a couple of hours to call back. As the day wore into evening, the gaps between Andy’s calls shortened, but finally stopped around six. Cal considered erasing the messages without listening, but couldn’t bring himself to be that rude. Andy’s first call
