The Reluctant Coroner

She glanced at the low fuel light again. Her old Sentra could go fifty miles with the fuel light on. The rental truck? I have no idea. She took her foot off the gas and slowed to sixty, a horn sounding behind her. Relief washed over her as she turned off Ocean Highway. The Broadway exit emptied onto a divided four-lane boulevard, and then she turned onto Estancia Canyon Road. The next landmark was the Coffee Bean on the next corner, and the apartment complex sat two blocks further down.

She pulled halfway into the driveway and stopped the truck. She flipped down the visor and looked in the mirror. The day of driving, she had been unkind. Her loose curls were frizzy, and her large, dark brown eyes looked tired, but she stared firmly at her face. “I appreciate you getting me this apartment so quickly. It’s good to see you again.” Almost. She softened her gaze, forcing a smile onto the corners of her mouth. “I appreciate you getting me this apartment so quickly. It’s good to see you again.” A solid performance. She nodded and grabbed her phone off the passenger seat. A new voicemail. But it wasn’t from her father.