Dead and Gone

“Afraid? When have you been afraid?”

“My whole life.”

“I don’t mean as … a child. Recently?”

“All the time. Some times more than others, that’s all.”

“When the skinheads—?”

“Yes.”

“Even in the poolroom?”

“Even then.”

“And there was no window?”

“No. When I’m … in danger, or when I feel I might be, that’s all there is. The danger. I focus on it so tight nothing else could ever have a chance to get in.”

“But with me …?”

“It’s the … opposite of danger, I guess.”

“Those are the best words anyone has ever spoken to me,” Gem said. She kissed my neck, snuggled in against me.

She was deep into dreamless sleep in a few minutes. But I could feel her tears against my skin.

“Do you really have any leads?” Gem asked me the next morning, managing to talk with her mouth crammed full of food and sound ladylike at the same time.

“Not a lead, a person. Someone who just might be able to get me the answers. Make the connections, anyway.”

“Are you going to see this person now?”

“No. It’s not that easy. I don’t know where he is. He moves around a lot. I have to send out feelers, wait for the lines to form.”

“That is why you are going back to your home?”

“I’m not going back to New York,” I told her, watching her ocean eyes for any flicker of surprise.

“Oh?” is all she said.

“I’m not sure it’s as safe as I made it out to be, even if Morales got it done and NYPD has me down as dead. And I couldn’t look for this person I need any more efficiently from there. It all has to be done over the phone.”

“Then why did you tell—?”

“Brick? I don’t know him. It’s Byron I know. And Byron I trust.”

“But Brick did a lot to—”

“He did. And I’m grateful. I owe him, no argument. But that’s not the same as trusting him.”

“You trust Byron. And Byron trusts—”

“Byron trusts him, that’s right. And he took some real risks—”

“Lovers do incredible things for each other,” Gem said, solemnly.

“But lovers fall out,” I reminded her. “And when they do, things change.”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” I agreed. “But there’s other reasons, too.”

“What are those?”

“Brick is a pro. But even pros make mistakes. If he thinks I’m back in New York, that’s all the information anyone can get out of him. He’s an agency man. My name may trip some wires inside his shop. He has to be loyal to them. And loyal to Byron, too. I don’t want to put him in a cross. This way, it gets tight, he can tell them what he knows, and it still won’t be a problem for me.”

“So where will you go, then?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“But this room—”

“Sure. I have to leave the hotel. But that’s all. I’m going to stick around.”

“And do what?”

“Lurk.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Here’s the deal, little girl. I can look for … this person I need over the phone. And I can work that from anywhere. But I can’t be sure of finding him at all.”

“Oh.”

She went back to packing, fussing over the task long after she should have been finished. I’d been ready to go for an hour, but I didn’t say anything.

“If you cannot find this person you seek …?” she finally asked.