Going to the Bad Read Online Free Page A

tried to get information. At least the news wasn’t playing on the television mounted to the wall. I dreaded seeing the scene outside my own house replayed on KJAY—or even worse, on our competitor’s broadcasts.
    I couldn’t help but think about the time I’d spent with my mother and sister in a similar ER waiting room. All I’d known was that my father had been in an accident on the job. He worked, and lived most of the week, seventy miles from town at an oil field out by Lost Hills. When I was little, he’d come home every weekend. By the time I was sixteen, and waiting in that ER for news of him, his visits had become unpredictable and rare.
    When had I realized that my father was going to die? A memory of Bud surfaced. He’d come through the ER door and my spirits had briefly lifted. Bud was fun. He loved to use colorful southern slang and delighted in teasing my starch-perfect mother. Crazy uncle Bud always had a crooked grin on his face, unlike my father, who was quiet and withdrawn.
    But the grin hadn’t been there that day. That was when real fear had penetrated my teenage brain. I watched my mother embrace her seedy brother-in-law. I could hear her crying into his chest.
    â€œOh, hell” was all Bud said as tears began rolling down his face.
    That’s when I’d felt it. The same feeling I’d experienced as I collapsed onto the sidewalk thinking Rod was dead. A feeling as if you’d do anything to change what was happening—make any deal, climb any mountain, make any sacrifice—but there was nothing to do because you were helpless.
    The patrol officer returned and jerked me from the memory.
    â€œThey’re prepping him for surgery. Someone will be out soon to talk to you.” He sounded official, but polite. “Are there any other family members you can call to come wait with you?”
    â€œNo. My mother and sister live in Fresno now.” I suddenly realized no one had told Annette, Bud’s girlfriend. I explained and used a pay phone to make a collect call.
    I hated telling her over the phone, but she took the news as well as could be expected. She promised to come as soon as she could find someone to stay with her daughter.
    I returned to the waiting room just as Leanore arrived from the station. She hugged me and said, “I’m so sorry, Lilly.”
    We sat down together near a trio dressed as the three wise men. They all wore sneakers under their robes, and one had a bloody towel around his hand, but otherwise they were straight out of a Nativity scene.
    â€œYou’re not going through this alone,” Leanore continued. “Whether you like it or not.”
    Leanore had brought the messenger bag I used as a purse when I wasn’t working as a shooter. After thanking her, I checked my phone for messages. There were two.
    The first was from Rod and was sent a little after seven that morning. “Hi. I didn’t hear you leave. Did you go in to work early? Call me, okay? I’m going to the gym, but I thought maybewe could go buy a Christmas tree on your lunch break.” The message ended.
    â€œYou were right to yell at me earlier,” I said to Leanore. “About Rod being too perfect to marry. I’m an idiot.”
    â€œYou’re not an idiot. You’re just afraid of getting hurt. Welcome to the human race.”
    The door opened from the interior of the ER and a woman called my name. I was surprised to see the officer join us as Leanore and I went to speak with her. I shouldn’t have been. This was a violent crime. Handsome had probably ordered the officer to keep an eye on us.
    The woman directed us all to another floor where Bud would be taken for surgery. After a long walk and a brief elevator ride, we reached the surgical waiting room. I gave as much information as I could about Bud’s medical background, age—which I guessed to be late seventies, but didn’t know