I picked up the phone and dialed Joe. His sleepy voice came on the line. “’Lo?” “Hi. I notice Vic’s truck is gone.” “Yeah, you just missed him. He sat up all night with a sick animal—I heard him stop by a few minutes ago to shower and change, and then he was off again. Can I help you?” “No, I need to talk to him. You have any idea when he’ll be back?” “He said something about vaccinating some cows. Good gravy, Marly. Do you know what time it is?” “Very early. I apologize, Joe. Do you expect him back soon?” “Should be back by early afternoon, I’d guess.” Joe wasn’t thrilled that I’d roused him out of bed at this hour, but Joe was Joe, and for some inexplicable reason, he’d understood my need when I asked my next question. “Joe, do you know where I can find my mother? I’m assuming that she is alive?” I waited for his shock. Maybe even outrage. Instead, I heard him fumble for his glasses, then rustle some paper. What was he—? “Woodland Health Care.
