It had been a long time since John had fallen off the wagon that hard, and even longer since he’d had a voicemail waiting for him when he awoke.

“John, it’s Marie. I’m sorry to do this, to call you so late, but I really need you to do something for me.”

Rolling upright, John groped for something to write with.

“It’s my daughter. It’s Sunny. She needs help and…well, I’m not really in a position to help her right now. Would you please, please get her to my house? She is at 1610 Riverside Drive, near the back corner. Take her to my new place, 2781 County Highway 183. Please, John. Matter of life or death. There’s no one else I can trust.”

Even though he and Marie had been divorced for, what, eighteen years now, give or take, John reached for his keys. When your ex-wife still took your calls at 2am, pulled you out of the drunk tank on occasion, and held your head in a men’s room in some dive bar…well, that was a big IOU to cash. John might have just turned in his 2-year AA chip, but he wasn’t turning his back on that debt.

Luckily, the old Ram had a GPS suction-cupped to the dash, so all John had to do was focus on the intense Teutonic voice as she guided him through rural northern lower Michigan. When Brünhilda the GPS called out that he had arrived, though, John had to pull over and squint to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

1610 Riverside Drive: Eternal Rest Cemetery.

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