"Every morning."
Nolan nodded slowly. "And you've been carrying these around in your coat."
"Since nine o'clock this morning. From my kitchen to my truck to this store."
"To put in the box."
"Yes."
Nolan turned and looked toward the front of the store, down the length of the middle aisle, past Elmo Pickens and his cane, past the greeting cards and Ardella Gaither, to the gray steel kiosk against the front wall under the window, with its slot and its placard, not ten feet inside the door. Everyone in the store followed his look. It was not something he did on purpose. It was only where his eyes went. And when he turned back, everyone in the store had seen what he had seen, which was that you could not come in the door of Holcomb Drug without walking past that box close enough to touch it.
"You walked right by it," Nolan said. His voice was not unkind. That was the worst of it, Ancil thought later. It was gentle. It was the voice of a man explaining something to a child. "Ancil. It's right there by the door. You walked right by it and came back here and sat down."
"I wanted to see if Mattie had any of the new first."
"Why?"