get back to work tomorrow.”
“You’re gonna need my help finding him.”
I shook my head no. “He’s not our problem anymore. I told Rusedski all about him. There’s a whole task force tracking him down. Only a matter of time before they find him.”
“You saying we’re done?”
For him the answer was yes. I wasn’t going to let him get dragged into the mess I’d made of things on that rooftop. Let him think it was Rusedski’s game from here on out. “It’s really over,” I said.
His eyes misted, and he put a hand out to the wall to steady himself. “I can’t believe it.”
I grabbed his shoulder, squeezed down with my fingers. “You remember this day, you hear me? Fresh starts are hard as hell to come by.”
He nodded, gaze aimed at the floor. I held on until he met me eye-to-eye, man to man. “You hear me?”
He nodded a yes.
“What did you get on Carew? I need to pass it along to Rusedski.”
“I went down to the south-side docks where he grew up. I asked around but like I said, nobody’s seen him, not in a long time. I got some family photos, pictures of when he was young.” He handed me a chip.
“Thanks.”
With a weak smile, he said, “I stopped at the hospital on my way back to check on Maria’s sister.”
“And?”
“She got cut up good.”
“She’ll live?”
“She’ll need a lot of work if she wants to keep her job.”
“She can work for Maria.”
He went into his room to grab his things. I went into my own room, nabbed the bags on the floor, and headed toward the exit, leaving a trail of dripping water. I pushed my way outside into the church courtyard.
I threw the bag with my bloody clothes into the trash bin and made for the stairs to the street. The preacher gave me a wave from the church doorway. “Good-bye now.”
“We’re out of here,” I said over my shoulder. “Thanks for the digs.”
“Jesus loves you.”
Only because he never met me.
I sat on a park bench, downed the last bite of a ’guana taco, hot sauce running down my wrist. I wiped my mouth with a napkin then set it flat on my lap and rubbed my wrist across it. Some of the simplest shit was such a pain in the ass.
The park was busy for so late: dice rollers and card players, flasks and bottles. People jawed, and loud music swirled in O smoke.
I was alone now. Completely, utterly alone. Didn’t see that coming when Paul died. Didn’t realize he was just the first to leave me. Niki. My crew. Maggie.
I balled the napkin and tossed it at an overflowing trash can. I sucked on a can of soda, bubbles making my overheated tongue sting. The leaky bag sat by my feet, my shoes in a growing puddle of water. I called to the woman behind the fryer, the one who had prepared my taco. “Got ice?”
She nodded, then stood and opened the cooler she’d been using as a chair.
I untied my bag, brought it over, and held it open so she could dump ice in, held it high so she wouldn’t look inside. Finished, I tied it back up and returned to the bench.
I pulled out Deluski’s chip from my pocket, pushed it against my temple; photos were picked up by my optic nerve, imagery going straight into my brain.
Bronson Carew as a baby, as a young boy. Always posing alone. A forced smile on his face.
Frustrated, I pulled away the chip. This shit was worthless. A manhunt like this required manpower. Rusedski had a task force. I had me.
Maggie should be helping. Her ass was on the line same as mine. But she was chained to her desk until Carew was caught. Truth was I wasn’t sure she would help even if she could. I’d pushed her too far. She had a good heart, and the goodhearted couldn’t associate with me, not if they wanted to stay that way.
I’d have to pull our asses out of the fire myself. Plenty fair considering I was the one who struck the match.
I put the chip back to my temple and called up his mother’s picture. Silver hair. Brown skin rutted like a sun- baked terra-cotta rooftop. She seemed too old to have given birth to a nineteen-year-old. Lagartan women weren’t prone to gestate their babies in tanks like offworlders. Didn’t have the money.
I pulled up a pic of his two older sisters when they were his age. Locked arms and broad smiles.
I pulled away the chip, the sisters’ image fading with it. I recognized her. The sister on the right.
Miss Paulina.
New possibilities blew into my mind, a ripple effect of connections and deductions. Sudden understanding gusted at gale force.
Riding a high of explosive comprehension, I stood and grabbed my plastic bag, tossed it over my shoulder, and let the ice chill my back as I walked, a glimmer of imaginary sunlight marking my path.
Twenty-eight
April 28, 2789
The car I’d been following pulled into a reserved space next to a glass-enclosed office building. I handed a thousand pesos to the cabdriver and climbed out onto the curb.
She was out of her car now, heading toward the building entrance, long legs taking short strides inside an ankle-length tapered skirt.
I did my best to ignore the kink in my back-last night’s rooftop hop still exacted a toll-and hustled to catch up. She stepped toward the door, hips wagging, straight black hair moving to and fro. I closed the distance, the bag of ice swinging from my hand.
She heard my approach and glanced over her shoulder.
“Mrs. Samusaka.”
She stopped, her hand on the door handle, her face as icy as the diamond studs in her ears. “Are you following me?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“You’ll need to make an appointment.” She pulled open the door.
“I need to talk to you now. Walk with me.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort.” She stepped through and let go of the handle.
I shoved my words through the closing gap, getting the whole sentence out just before the door shut. “I know who killed your son.”
She slowly turned around and faced me through the thick glass. Reflections from the neon signs atop the bank across the street sparkled in the glass, her blank canvas of a face painted with flashing reds and blues.
She cracked the door. “He wasn’t murdered.”
“He was.”
“The police said-”
“The police lied.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because your husband paid them to.”
She didn’t know what to believe, her face pressed into the slivered door, her eyes swirling pools of confusion. “That’s not true. You’re a damn liar.” Her tone didn’t match her words; instead, the accusation limped from her mouth.
“Please, walk with me. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t at least listen to what I have to say.”
She took a look around, like she had to remind herself where she was. Then she came out and with a little
