What had happened to Evan? What had he become? He’d always been reckless and too hard. But this took things to a new level. Maybe it was prison. Maybe it was desperation. Something had turned Evan into the kind of man who could decide a stranger needed to die and then kill him.

Jesus.

And the call! Why had he made the call from the diner? Why make it at all? To impress Debbie, to show his independence? Why call Richard for that?

Wait a minute. More important than why was how. In order to make the call, he would have needed the phone number. Danny thought back, trying to replay Debbie’s fractured monologue. She’d said something about him taking out a matchbook with the number on it.

Which meant that after the first call two days ago, Evan had taken the trouble not only to remember the number, but to write it down. Not exactly brain surgery. But also not the kind of thing Evan did. Unless he’d already been planning, even then, to act without Danny. The thought sent a chill down his spine, immediately followed by a flush of furious heat.

Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him. But it did.

In front of him, traffic slowed, a sea of brake lights. Everyday people trying to get home. At this rate it would take him twenty minutes to make ten blocks.

He swerved over to the shoulder, ignoring the honking, and jammed his foot to the accelerator, half on, half off the road. Cars blurred by. Farther down the shoulder became parking, so he turned into a diner, slowed enough to engage the four-wheel drive, and then rolled right over the grassy embankment separating it from the southbound street. It was a quiet road that took him six blocks before dead-ending in one of the small parks that dotted Chicago. He didn’t even slow down, just took the curb at speed, the wheels jamming into it before catching, jerking him forward till the seat belt bit. Two black teenagers sharing a cigarette on top of the playground equipment spun to watch him, their mouths open, but it didn’t matter, because on the other side of the park lay Pike Street, just down from the site.

He was running on anger, never the smart play, but right now, he didn’t care. All the lethal thoughts he’d entertained the other night were bubbling to the surface. He covered the last two blocks and pulled up to the construction fence. The gate was closed but unlatched, and he nudged it with the front of the truck and drove right through. He was out of the car before the engine had even fully stopped.

Evan sat on the cinder-block steps of the trailer, a cigarette in one hand. He rose, his shoulders back, and flicked the half-finished smoke to one side. “Hey, partner.”

Danny didn’t speak, just let the momentum carry him the four paces to the steps, his eyes on Evan’s, his arm snapping back into a swing that caught Evan off guard, Evan’s hands coming up too slowly to keep Danny from connecting with his jaw, a hearty, dead-on smack that left Danny’s hand throbbing with shards of pain. Evan fell, caught himself against the side of the trailer, and came up in a lunge, his fists quick, forcing Danny back. He blocked one, stepped away from a second, but a brutal right caught him in the temple, the world leaping and resettling, and then it was on, the two of them scrabbling and fighting like kids from the old neighborhood. Danny managed to bring a knee up into Evan’s gut but took two quick jabs to his side in the process, both men breathing hard, gritting teeth, murder in their eyes. It was all coming out in Danny now, every stress of the last month, every setback and failure and lie and calculation he’d sworn he’d never make again, and it burned hot as gasoline. He landed a cross that spun Evan’s face and bloodied his nose, but in the process overreached and left himself open. He saw the mistake too late, Evan’s fist coming round in a hurtling uppercut, all the strength of his body behind it, and then suns exploded behind Danny’s eyes as the force of the punch lifted him off the ground. He fell back, the gravel rushing to meet him, slapping his back. A steel-toed boot slammed into his kidney, and he jerked to his side, at once gasping for air and gagging viciously.

Evan stepped away, breath coming hard, blood trickling from his nostrils. For a moment they eyed each other, glares hard, and then Evan gave a little laugh. “So the dumb cooze found you, huh?” He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his right hand in a childish gesture. “Thought she might. I figured that whole thing about a shower was bullshit.”

Danny took air in long gulps, willing the pain to die. It took more strength than he expected to stay propped up on one elbow. He kept an eye on Evan, watching his boots, trying to prepare for another attack. “She was scared.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going back to Stateville over some fat-ass citizen.”

Danny reached deep, trying to picture a calm place, an underground lake, cavernous and cool and dark, where the pain was far away. When he had it, he pushed himself up to his knees, and then his feet. Evan backed away, on his guard.

“It was a stupid move.”

“Why?” Evan sneered. “Because it wasn’t part of your plan? I got news for you, Danny-boy. I don’t fit into your plans.”

Danny nodded, his vision grainy, his head sore. “I’m learning that.”

The remark seemed to please Evan, like it had been a compliment. Like he hadn’t understood the real message. “About time.” He lowered his fists, then reached into his jacket to fumble for his cigarettes.

“Evan. This changes things.” He straightened his back, feeling the vertebrae pop, each of them a sharp twinge. “We need to rethink.”

“Nothing,” Evan paused, lit a smoke, blew a thin stream of gray, “changes.”

“We’re talking murder. The police are going to be looking for you.”

Evan shrugged. “So what? Tomorrow we’ll have a million bucks.”

Could he really be so cold about it?

You know the answer to that one, kid. You learned it the hard way. Don’t ever forget it again.

Still. “I know you don’t like to think about it this way, but hear me out. The smart play is for you to leave tonight. You killed this guy in a parking lot, right? You know how much evidence you probably left? Fingerprints, footprints, tire tracks, his blood, your blood. This isn’t a pawnshop we’re knocking over, man. You stick around, they will find you. And if we’re sitting on the kid at the same time, we’ll both go down. Maybe for good.”

Evan stared at him, a sneer on his face. “Ahh, Danny.” He took a long draw on the cigarette, shook his head. “Come with me.” He turned and started to walk toward the trailer.

Danny didn’t move. “What for?”

Evan had a hand on the door. He stopped and turned around with exaggerated patience. “I want to show you something.”

Every nerve in Danny’s body tingled. Something in Evan’s easy manner scared the hell out of him. It could be a trap. Evan didn’t need his help any longer. He didn’t think the guy would just shoot him casually, but he could hardly be sure.

He pictured Karen. If something went wrong now, she’d never know the truth.

Evan held the door wider and smiled. “After you.”

On the other hand, it could be nothing. If he wanted to get out of this, to see Karen again, to try and find a happy solution, he didn’t have much choice. His bruised face throbbing with every beat of his heart, Danny stepped into the trailer, his ears straining for warnings.

The television lit the interior in flickering shades of blue and white. Cardboard packages from microwave dinners littered the counters. The air smelled dank. Tommy moved on the couch, struggling to sit up. His hands and feet had been duct taped to the arms of the couch. There was a strip of tape over his mouth, and another across his eyes. What skin was visible shone pale white and freckled.

“You taped him?” Danny couldn’t keep the disgust from his voice.