Covet

Well, well, well…she was smart. This Marie-Terese was smart.

“What do you think of Vin?” he asked.

“Not going to answer me? I don't blame you.”

“What's your last name?” He smiled grimly as silence reigned. “Not going to answer me? I don't blame you.”

As she flushed, he eased off with a curse. “Look, I'm sorry. Been a rough couple of days.”

She nodded. “And it's none of my business, actually.” He wasn't so sure about that.

“Just out of curiosity, what do you think of him?” As Jim waited for her to answer, he thought, Jesus, since when had he turned into a modern-day, dick-swinging Ann Landers? Next thing he knew, he'd be getting facials and ironing his clothes.

Or…cleaning his clothes.

Whatever.

“Well, anyway,” he said, aware she hadn't replied, “I don't know him all that much, but Vin's a good guy.”

She glanced over. “How long have you known him?”

“I work for him. He's into construction and I have a hammer. Match made in Heaven.” Jim thought of the Four Lads and rolled his eyes. “Literally.”

As they came up to a stoplight, she said, “I'm not looking for him. For anyone.”

Jim glanced up at the sky through its frame of skyscrapers. “You don't have to be searching to find what you need.”

“I'm not going to be with him, so…yeah. That's it.”

Great. One step forward. Two steps back. Vin appeared to be on board; Marie-Terese was not interested—in spite of the fact that she was clearly attracted to the guy and that she cared about him enough to worry how he was going to make it back home safely.

As they went along with the traffic, they passed by a couple who were walking side by side, their hands linked. They weren't young lovers, though; they were old. Very old.

But only in the skin, not in the heart.

“You ever been in love, Marie-Terese?” Jim asked softly.

“Hell of a question to ask a prostitute.”

“I haven't. Been in love, that is. Just wondered if you had.” He touched the glass, and the old woman caught the gesture and clearly thought he'd waved at her. As she lifted her free hand, he wondered if maybe he had.

He smiled at her a little and she smiled back and then they resumed their separate ways.

“Why is that relevant,” Marie-Terese said.

He thought of Vin in that cold, beautiful duplex, surrounded by inanimate beautiful objects.

And then he thought of Vin, looking at Marie-Terese in the sunlight.

The guy's soul had been fed at that moment. He had been transformed. He had been truly alive. “It's relevant because I'm beginning to think,” Jim murmured, “love might be everything.”

“I used to believe that,” Marie-Terese said hoarsely. “But then I married the man I did, and that whole fantasy stuff got blown out the window.”

“Maybe that wasn't love.”

Her choked laugh told him he was on the right track with that one. “Yeah, maybe.”

They pulled into the parking lot of the diner and headed over to his Harley. “Thanks again for the ride,” he said.

“I'm happy to help.”

He got out of the car, closed the door and watched her turn around. As she took off, he memorized her license plate.

When he was sure she was gone, he put on his helmet, started his bike, and took off. Considering his list of crimes, an unregistered Harley wasn't even a blip on his radar.

Besides, the stiff wind on his chest and arms peeled off some of the stress and blew his brain more clear— although what was revealed made him ill. It was pretty obvious what he needed to do next, and though he hated it, sometimes you had to suck shit up: He had a woman he needed to keep alive, Vin's vision of a gunshot, and two obnoxious college boys who were now dead, thanks to having been popped. What the situation required was information, and there was only one way he knew to get it.

He didn't like whoring himself out, but you had to do what you had to do…and he was willing to bet that mantra was something Marie-Terese knew all about, too.

As soon as he pulled into his studio's gravel drive, Dog came out from under the truck and limped with joy over to the bike, all wags as he escorted the way into the garage. After Jim took off his helmet, he leaned down for a proper hello and Dog's tail got going so fast, it was a damn miracle the little guy could stay on his paws.

Odd to have someone to welcome him home.

Jim picked the dog up, hooked him over his arm, and went up the stairs to unlock the door. Inside, he did the petting thing while he found his cell phone in the messy bed.

Sitting down on the mattress and feeling Dog's small, warm body curl up around his hip, Jim thought long and hard before dialing. It felt like a step backward, and the familiarity of it sickened him, which was kind of interesting.

Christ, had he been trying to make a fresh start of things here?

Looking around, he saw what Vin had seen: two piles of clothes, a twin bed that no one bigger than a twelve-year-old could be comfortable in, furniture that had Goodwill stamped all over it, and a single ceiling light with a crack through its cover.

Not exactly fresh-start material, but then again, compared to where he'd been and what he'd been doing, sleeping on a park bench would have counted.

As he stared at the phone, the ramifications of what would happen if that old, familiar voice came on the line were very clear.

Jim punched in the eleven digits and hit send anyway.

When the ringing stopped and there was no voice mail, he said one word: “Zacharias.” The reply was nothing but the laconic laugh of a man for whom life held no more surprises. “Well, well, well…never thought I'd get that name again.”

“I need some information.”

“Do you.”

Jim's grip cranked down hard on the cell. “It's just a license plate trace and an identity search. You could do it in your fucking sleep, you piece of shit.”

“Yes, clearly that is the way to get me to do anything for you. Absolutely. You always were such a diplomat.”

“Fuck you. You owe me.”

“Do I.”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence, but Jim knew damn well that the call hadn't gotten dropped: The kind of satellites that the government used for people like his former boss were powerful enough to beam a signal down into the center of the frickin' Earth.

That low laugh came again. “Sorry, my old friend. There's a statute of limitations on obligation and yours has passed. Don't ever call me again.”

The phone went dead.

Jim stared at the thing for a moment, then tossed it back on the bed. “Guess that's a deadend, Dog.”

Christ, what if Marie-Terese was some kind of con artist and Vin was just getting snowed?

Stretching out on the rumpled sheets, he arranged Dog on his chest before reaching over to the little table and snagging the TV remote. As he stroked Dog's rough coat, he pointed the thing at the tiny TV across from the head of the bed, his thumb hovering over the red button marked power.

I could use some help, lads, he thought. Which way am I supposed to be going with all this?

He pushed down and the picture came forward, summoned out of the glass screen, blooming into a clear