Chapter Twenty-Four
I pull into the parking lot and double check the address. This is the place, a dreary, single-story stucco building with hotel style landscaping. So this is where people go to die. To languish, forgotten. f**k me. Take me out to the woods and shoot me. I’m never going into one of these facilities. Never.
I grab a bouquet of flowers from the passenger seat and the pie Dottie sent, and step out of the car. The oppressive heat cocoons around me like a suffocating blanket, wet and sticky.
I march inside and stop at the desk. “I’m looking for Ingrid Nilsson’s room?”
The young man behind the desk scrutinizes me through his hipster glasses. “Are you family?”
“A friend.”
His fingers clack on the keyboard and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, her orders say no visitors but f
