A truck door slammed. May ran to the front door and into her best friend’s arms. They hugged in the dark driveway. Imani patted May’s back until her shaking quieted.

“I’m sorry. I just needed bleach,” May said. “I- I didn’t know what to do. Everything is still in moving boxes. There are no stores out here. There’s nothing around here.”

“Babe, I got you. I’m down to help with whatever. I bought the bleach.”

Imani retrieved a large white jug and a bucket of cleaning supplies from truck’s cab. Pulling herself together, May backed up.

“Thank you, thank you so much but you don’t understand. I don’t want you involved in all this,” May said, looking around nervously.

“What don’t I understand? That bleach destroys DNA. Or that Junior finally found you to finish what he started.”

Imani placed a steadying hand on May’s throat. May always worn a scarf or turtleneck to hide the scars. The friends hugged again. They both knew too much about scars.

“Wait this isn’t your truck?”

Imani handed May the bleach and headed to the back of the pickup. May noticed the bucket had contractor bags and a plastic protective suit.

“Yeah, I had lime from when we buried Sheba and the moving dolly. But I borrowed Taj’s truck because hers had a mower ramp. And before you worry stop worrying. I told my cousin nothing. My family doesn’t ask questions. We good.”

Imani opened the truck bed. Shovels, lime, a dolly, and a roll of canvas tarp waited patiently. Imani snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

“What you think I watch true crime just for kicks? Hurry girl we’re burning night time here. You clean up. I’ll shift the problem to the truck. I know a good place but we have to hustle,” Imani said.

Imani tossed her gloves. Snatching them midair, May remembered Imani’s stories about her abusive stepdad. He’d terrorize her and her mom for years until he walked out of their lives for good. Just up and disappeared one night. Clutching the bleach, May hurried into her house.