He pulled the trigger and the SIG coughed and the back of Charlie’s head exploded. Luther felt his stomach clutch up as what was left of his lifelong friend shook like he was on one of those vibrating beds, then stopped moving altogether.

Holy Jesus.

Luther leaned over and vomited on the carpet, Bobby jumping back to avoid the spray.

“The money, asshole. Where’s my goddamned money?”

Luther grabbed the dresser for support, trying to think how he was going to get out of this. He was bigger than Bobby, sure, and stronger, too, but he didn’t have the stone-cold heart Bobby had, or the nerve. Or the SIG in his hand.

“Get on your knees,” Bobby said.

“Huh?”

Bobby pointed the SIG at his head. “Get on your fuckin’ knees. Now!”

Luther slowly sank to his knees, trying to think of something to say, some magic word that might bring Bobby back to his senses. Then a shadow fell across him, the light from the doorway blocked by someone standing in it.

“Can’t leave you two alone for even a minute.”

Luther looked up sharply, saw a dark figure there, rain pooling around his shoes. He couldn’t make out a face. All he saw was the orange glow of a cigarette.

The voice sounded different, but the way the words were spoken was unmistakable. Impossible, but unmistakable.

“… Alex?” Luther said.

Bobby was already spinning around, raising the SIG. The figure in the doorway stepped forward, extending his arm, then pressed the barrel of a gun against Bobby’s temple and fired.

Bobby went down without a sound, blood spreading beneath him on the carpet.

Jumping to his feet, Luther stared at him in stunned disbelief. Then he looked up again, as the man with the gun took a long drag off his cigarette and stepped deeper into the room, his face finally coming into the light.

The gun was pointed at Luther now.

“Sorry, stud. I love you like a brother, but I can’t risk you going to the Feds.”

Luther barely registered what the man had said. He wasn’t thinking about words right now, or the Smith in his belt, or poor old Charlie on the bed, or Bobby crumpled on the floor near his feet. All of that was blocked by the adrenaline rush of instinct that overtook him the moment he saw the man’s face.

There was only one thing he could think to do.

Run.

45

Wake up, Jack.

Jaaa-ack… wake uhhh-up.

She’s waiting for you. Better hurry.

Ticktock ticktock ticktock ticktock…

Donovan awoke to the sharp sound of knuckles on glass. “Mr. Reed?”

He opened his eyes, blinked a few times to clear them. There was a chill in the air. Pale morning sky.

Jesus. What time was it?

A woman peered in at him through a window and it took him a moment to realize where he was: lying on the backseat of the Chrysler.

“Mr. Reed?”

The woman wore white, clutching car keys, a purse, and the remnants of a sack lunch to her chest as she frowned in at him.

What had she called him?

“I’d like to go home now. You’re blocking my car.” Her voice was muffled through the glass. She sounded annoyed.

Donovan pulled himself upright, his body groaning. He felt something plastered to his cheek and pulled it away.

A candy wrapper. Baby Ruth.

His throat was sore. His mouth tasted like dried cow dung.

Tossing the wrapper aside, he stared out the window at the woman. She lowered her hands now, revealing a little placard on her chest that said LUCILLE BAKER, RN.

Was he back at the hospital?

“Look,” she said. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt with you, but you shouldn’t be sneaking into your niece’s room. Rules are rules. That’s no reason for childish pranks.” She gestured impatiently. “Could you move your car please? Now?”

Donovan blinked again, then looked around, trying to scrape away what felt like a thick layer of scum coating the inside of his skull. The Chrysler was parked haphazardly in the middle of a rain-slicked parking lot, blocking at least three of the cars that were angled neatly in their stalls.

Across the lot was a long, squat building. A sign near the entrance read ST. MARGARET’S CONVALESCENT CENTER.

He knew this place.

It was Sara Gunderson’s hospital.

“Shall I call security? Is that really what you want me to do?”

“Uhhh,” Donovan managed, trying to get his mouth to form the words in his head. It wasn’t working.

Lucille gave him a moment, but with nothing forthcoming, she said, “Very well, then.” She opened her purse, dug around for a moment, and withdrew a cell phone.

“No, wait,” Donovan said, holding up a hand, his mind on overdrive. “I–I’ll move the car.”

He reached across to the door release, pushed the door open, and climbed out. He felt dizzy. Grabbed the roof of the Chrysler to steady himself.

“Are you all right, Mr. Reed?”

Donovan turned. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“I’m sorry, isn’t that what you said your name was? You’re Ms. Gunderson’s uncle, I just assumed-”

“Uncle?” Donovan said. This was getting crazier by the minute. “What are you talking about? Where do you know me from?”

Lucille frowned. “Really, Mr.-whatever your name is-this isn’t the least bit funny. I realize you’re upset, but your behavior is growing quite tedious.” She gestured to the car. “Now, please. I’d like to go home.”

She turned abruptly, moving toward a silver Nissan, one of the cars that was blocked by the Chrysler.

“Wait,” Donovan sputtered, grabbing her arm. “Who is it you think I am?”

“Let go of me.”

“You said I was in Sara’s room. When was I there? What did I do?”

“Let go of me,” Lucille repeated, looking more scared than angry now.

Donovan released her. “I’m sorry. It’s just I… I don’t remember going in there.”

Lucille waved a dismissive hand at him and continued to her car. “You need professional help, mister. If this is any indication of the kind of upbringing that poor girl had, it’s no wonder she fell in with the wrong sort.”

She unlocked the door and got inside, Donovan’s bewilderment quickly turning to horror. The last thing he remembered was pulling into a gas station near Motel Row.

And the headache. That terrible headache.

But how had he gotten here? And why?

It just didn’t make any sense.

Lucille was sitting in her car now, tapping her fingers on the wheel, her angry eyes visible in the side-view

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