“Park over there, in the empty part.”

The doctor pulled in, killed the engine. “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

“I believe you, Doc. And if you did what I wanted, everything will be fine. You’ve got my word. So”-Bennett jerked his thumb toward the backseat-“I’m going to ask one last time. Did you get clever with me? Admit it now, I’ll give you an opportunity to make good. But if it turns out that you messed with me…”

The man was shell-shocked, eyes red and nose swollen. “I made what you asked for.”

“Then your worries are over.”

Even with one window down, the shot was deafening in the closed confines of the car. The bullet took him right in the temple, passed straight through, and shattered the driver’s-side glass, spattering the car door with gore. Bennett didn’t waste time looking around, just wiped the gun off, wrapped the man’s dead hand around it, then dropped both to the seat. The gun bounced and slid to the floorboards. Bennett set three photos in the doctor’s lap, then wiped off the radio dial, took the duffel from the back, and started for the terminal. Kept an easy pace, just a businessman on his way to a flight. He opened his cell phone, dialed.

“Yello?”

“Crooch. It’s me. We’re on. Be ready Tuesday night.”

“Yeah, listen, about this. I don’t know, man. I’m having second thoughts.”

“What’s not to know? It’s simple.”

“If it’s so simple, why don’t you do it?”

“Ahh, Croochy, you’re looking at it the wrong way.”

“How’s that?”

“You’re missing the opportunity. This is a painless way for you to settle up with me. Just run an errand, drop off one bag, pick up another. That’s it. And in return, think of the weight off your shoulders. Do right Tuesday night, come Wednesday morning, your worries are over.”

“And we’ll be square? Clean?”

“Absolutely, brother.” Bennett smiled. “You got my word.”

CHAPTER 6

COMING OFF A DOUBLE, bone freaking tired, the first thing Alex noticed when he came home was that the light on his answering machine was blinking again.

Not much sleep the last couple nights, and that filled with dreams of Cassie handing him stacks of hundred-dollar bills, of strange dark rivers and the sound of waterfalls, of flying that turned to falling. All he wanted was a big vodka, a shower if he could summon the will, and bed, where if he was lucky the pillows might still smell like Jenn.

He walked to the machine, almost hit Play, picked up the phone instead. Pressed the Caller ID button, then the back arrow.

Trish.

Alex stomped into the kitchen. Glass, ice, vodka. He took a long sip, felt the muscles in his back unclench. Took another, then refilled the glass, tucked the bottle back next to the frozen pizzas.

Over the past few days, she’d left a couple of messages. He’d checked them just to make sure Cassie hadn’t been hurt, but hadn’t otherwise responded. They’d all been terse little things, and the tone had scared him.

The streetlight outside his front window brought a globe of tree limbs into brilliant relief, the leaves bright green near the light, then fading to brown and gray and finally black as they moved outside the circle. He had this theory that life was kind of like that. A circle of now that could be seen clearly, and then a past and future fading out, growing disconnected. When he thought back to earlier versions of himself, he could remember things, moments, some of them crystal clear. Birthdays in the backyard. Shooting hoops in his driveway, the smell of tangled forsythia bushes that backed the hoop, the warmth of the sun, the clean ease of stretching for a rebound. But it felt so far away that it wasn’t even just like it hadn’t happened to him, it was like it had happened to someone that a friend had told him about. Two degrees removed.

The foursome was a perfect example. He, Jenn, Ian, and Mitch had started as a lark, a random evening that had been a surprising amount of fun. That evening led to another, and another. And after a while, he’d realized that the friends you saw every week were your best friends, and that the people you were in the habit of considering your best friends actually belonged to a past life.

We’re all living in our own globe of light. Seeing just so far and thinking that’s all there is. The vodka shivered through his chest. He took another gulp and pressed Play.

“Alex, it’s me.” A pause. “Are you there? Pick up.” A sigh. “I know you’re dodging my calls…” Her voice was more trickling out than sounding pissed, and that hit him, put him in mind of old conversations, late at night, her head on the pillow next to his. There had been times when they made sense, the two of them.

“OK.” Her voice firmer, her get-things-done tone. “I have something to tell you. I was going to when you picked Cassie up, but she interrupted…” She paused again. “Damn it, Alex, why are you making me do it this way? Can’t we be grown-ups for once?”

Standing in the dark of the apartment he lived in alone, Alex felt something tangle sticky fingers in his stomach. He leaned over the desk, head right above the answering machine, like he could talk to her through it, convince her not to say whatever she was about to.

“If this is the way we have to do it, fine. Scott got offered a job. It’s a big promotion, he’ll be leading his team, and… well. It’s in Phoenix.”

The spectral fingers clenched tighter.

“He’s going to take it. It’s too good an opportunity. We’re still working out the details, but it looks like we’ll be moving there.” She cleared her throat. “That’s not true. It doesn’t look like it. We’re moving, the three of us.”

Alex clenched the edge of the desk so hard the wood bit into his skin.

“I know it’s far, but it’s not like you won’t see Cassie anymore. We’ll figure something out. You can come anytime you want, and maybe part of the summer she can stay with you. Thanksgiving. Something.”

No, he thought and was surprised to realize he’d spoken aloud.

“I know that’s not what you want to hear,” she said, like she’d heard him. “And I’m sorry. But I”-she paused-“I spoke to my father’s lawyer, and he said that because you’ve been having trouble with the child support, we’re in the clear. Not that I want to get legal, but he said that if it came to that, given the money you’ve missed, and because Scott and I are married and providing a home to Cassie…” She stopped. “I hate this. You knew I wanted to talk to you. But you’ve been doing that thing you do, sticking your head in the sand hoping that will keep things from happening. Just like still working at that stupid bar, all these years later.” She hesitated, spoke with a gentler tone. “Anyway. We’ll be heading out in a couple of weeks. They need Scott right away, and he doesn’t want to be away from us. Of course, you can see Cassie before then, a couple of times maybe.” There was a long pause, and she said, “I’m sorry. Call if you want to talk. I’m sorry.”

Then the fumbling sound of her hanging up, and the machine beeped.

Alex stared. The fingers in his gut had tightened into a fist. His hands were shaking. Phoenix. Phoenix! They couldn’t do that. Take his baby girl and move halfway across the country, they couldn’t. Yeah, OK, he’d missed a couple of payments, been late on some others. But he wasn’t a deadbeat. He’d been working his ass off, hadn’t made one forward step in his own life because half of what he made went to Cassie. That lawyer of Trish’s-not hers, her father’s. Alex remembered the lawyer, a bland man with glasses and a shirt so white it shone, working the system so the child support was staggeringly high, telling him he was lucky that Trish still cared, that she was being so generous with custody, that-

He grabbed the answering machine in both hands and yanked, feeling the tension and then the delicious snap of the cords as he hurled it at the wall. It flew like a discus, hard and straight, and cracked a jagged hole in his drywall before falling to the ground, the cover breaking off. He wanted to go over and jump on it, stomp on the thing until it was just parts, until he ground the parts into his carpet. He stood flexing and opening his fists, a man alone in the dark of a lousy apartment.