“Okay. You need a ride?”
“I’ll catch a Metrobus up Georgia. I can get off at Buchanan and pick up my car.”
“You gonna hang out at the bus stop, in this neighborhood? At night?”
“I’ll be all right.”
Strange reached over and shook Quinn’s hand. “I’m gonna pray that you will be.”
“Keep your cell on,” said Quinn, “and I’ll do the same with mine. Let’s talk later on, all right?”
Strange nodded. “See you on the other side.”
Quinn got out of the car and shut the door. Strange eyed him in the rearview, walking down Warder in that cocky way of his, hands in his leather, shoulders squared, going by groups of young men moving about on the sidewalks and gathered on the corners.
Quinn went under a street lamp and passed through its light. Then he was indistinguishable from the others, just another shadow moving through the darkness that had fallen on the streets.
chapter 28
STRANGE made a call on his cell. He spoke to the man on the other end of the line for a long while. When their conversation was done, Strange said, “See you then.” He hit “end,” punched Janine’s number into the grid, pressed “talk,” and waited to connect. He got Janine on the third ring.
“Baker residence.”
“Derek here.”
“Where are you?”
“Workin’ this Joe Wilder thing. Sittin’ in my car.”
“Out here on the street.”
“You’re not drinking coffee, are you?”
“I did.”
“You know how it runs through you.”
Strange found himself smiling at the sound of her voice. “Just wanted to call and make sure Lionel got to practice.”
“Lydell came by and got him. Told me to tell you, if we spoke, that they found this guy, Ray something, and picked him up.”
“Ray Boyer. He say if Boyer gave him anything?”
“Not yet. Lydell said that Boyer wanted to lawyer up first. Something to do with making sure the paperwork’s right so he gets the reward money.”
Strange knew now that he didn’t have much time.
“Why don’t you knock off for the day?” said Janine. “Sounds like the police have this in hand.”
“I think I’ll stay out some, see what happens.”
“Must be getting chilly in that car. And I know you’re not lettin’ the heat run. You, who’s always telling Ron Lattimer that a running car kills a surveillance, what with the exhaust smoke coming out the pipes—”
“You know me too well.”
“That I do.”
“You asking me to come over and warm myself up?”
“Are you ready to do some serious talking?”
“Not yet,” said Strange. “Soon. But I didn’t just call about Lionel and practice.”
“Well?”
“Wanted to ask you something. My mother used to tell me, You can’t trade a bad life for a good. Do you think that’s right, Janine?”
“Do I think it’s right? I don’t know . . . . Where
“Never mind where I’m at.” Strange shifted his weight on the bench seat. “I love you, Janine.”
“Us lovin’ each other is not the issue, Derek.”
“Good bye, baby.”
Strange cut the call. He stared up the street at the row house. If he was going to do this, then he had to do it now. He found his notepad beside him, and on the top sheet, the phone number of the house. He punched the numbers into his cell. As he did, he went over in his head what he had planned. It was all risk, a long play. He couldn’t waver or stumble now.
The phone rang on the other end. A silhouette moved behind the curtains of the row house window.
“Yeah.”
“Garfield Potter?”
