Out on Rush Street, it was even more crowded. The scent of burned leaves hung in the air. Another bolt of lightning pierced the sky.

“There he is!” Sam yelled.

Tanner was near Gibsons restaurant. He rounded the corner and began running west. We ran after him, pushing by the drunks and revelers. The sky boomed with lightning and started pouring rain. I nearly slipped in my high-heeled sandals as I ran after the guys. I could see Tanner sprinting down Maple Street, Q close behind him and Sam right behind Q. Shane was just in front of me.

The sky began dumping rain, making the streets a watery blur of light. Luckily, Maple Street was less crowded. Tanner turned right when he hit Clark and kept going.

Shane stopped ahead of me and doubled over, sucking in breath. “C’mon, Shane!” I yelled at him, dragging him along. “You always wanted to make your dad proud? Well, now’s the time. We can’t let him get away like Dr. Li. Let’s go!”

My words spurred Shane into action and he ran past me. I took off after him, panting and pushing my wet hair out of my face. I saw Tanner run down the steps of the El platform at Clark and Division. Q and Sam hit the stairs right after him and disappeared below.

When I caught up with Shane at the gate, he looked befuddled. “I’ve never taken the El before,” he said, panting. “Should I just jump the gate?”

I pulled out my wallet and found my CTA card. I dipped it into the slot and pushed Shane through, then repeated the action for myself. “Which way did they go?”

Shane pointed at the southbound Red Line.

We ran down the steps to the island platform, where the tracks ran on either side. There were a few people waiting for trains. Shane and I spun around, looking for the group.

“There!” Shane said.

On the island, near the place where the southbound train would enter, was Tanner. He was standing with his hands out, Sam and Q maybe ten feet away.

We sprinted to them, but I stopped short when I saw Tanner. His black hair, always combed perfectly back from his widow’s peak, was messed, wet strands clinging to his face. His eyes had a wild tinge to them.

“Just get the fuck away from me!” he screamed. “All of you. Get the fuck away from me.”

Shane took a step forward.

“Shane, stay right there!” Tanner shouted.

Shane stood, panting for a moment, he and Tanner locking eyes.

Shane caught his breath. “Do not tell me what to do,” he said in a voice that was authoritative and contained but clearly livid. “Don’t tell me what to do ever again. I have been following you around since we were kids, Tanner. I worshipped you. I shared everything with you. Anything that was mine was yours. I got my dad to give you all that legal work. I stuck by you when you got divorced and then divorced again. I moved into my dad’s office this week because you told me to. And what did you do? You killed my father.”

Tanner’s eyes glittered with what looked like fear. “You have no proof,” he shouted. “I didn’t give him those herbs. That crazy doctor did.”

“She’ll testify you paid her,” I said. “She’s already given a statement.” It was totally untrue, of course, and lying was not something I did often, but Tanner looked on the verge, and if we could force him into a confession, it would be a start to prosecuting him for Forester’s death.

Tanner’s eyes skittered to me then back to Shane. “You’re bullshitting.”

“It’s over,” I said, my tone calm. “Dr. Li is telling everything to the cops.”

“So then why haven’t they arrested me?” Tanner yelled. “This is bullshit!”

“I can’t believe you did this to me.” Shane’s voice trembled now.

In the distance, we heard a rumble of a train.

“I cannot believe that you, my best friend, would hurt my dad.” Shane started to cry. “How could you do that to him? He was a great man. How could you do this to me? How can you live with yourself? How can you stand there, knowing what you did? I mean, even you. You’re such a jerk, Tanner, but I never thought you could kill someone.”

Tanner’s expression became one of agony as he watched Shane drop to one knee and begin to sob openly. The rumble of the train got closer, louder.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Shane said, yelling now over the sound of the approaching train. “You killed my dad. You killed him. You killed him.”

The roar of the train was deafening. The sound filled the platform, and there was nothing but that roar and the sight of Shane on his knee, Tanner watching him in horror.

And then Tanner’s expression cleared, like a man who’s made a decision he’d been struggling with for decades. He gave a slight nod of his head. His mouth moved, forming the words I’m sorry.

He turned away from Shane and took a few steps. A short pause. And just then, as the train barreled into the station, Tanner leaped in an almost lighthearted way, a way that made him look like a child skipping into a field of flowers.

73

I am standing in front of the police station at Larrabee and Chicago Avenue, ten hours after that awful moment on the El tracks. I’ll never forget the details-the way Tanner jumped with ease; the vicious crack of bones; the long, uninterrupted blare of the train’s horn; the way his body soared ahead of the train like a bird in flight; the shriek of the brakes and the screams of those nearby; the powerful thud as Tanner landed on the tracks.

My sundress is now as limp as I feel. When all this started on that Tuesday, twelve days ago, I saw how fast a life can change. But now I’m amazed by that reality once again. Twelve days ago, I rode my scooter to work, the wind whipping my hair, secure in the fortress that was Sam and me, ready for another day on top of the heap at Baltimore & Brown. Yesterday morning, when I pulled this dress over my head, I was in another country with no knowledge of who had hurt Forester, with no knowledge of whether I would ever see Sam again.

I am exhausted to an extent I have never known; a tiredness that has settled into the very back of my eyes, the deep well of my ribs. It’s an exhaustion born of grief-for Forester, for the simplicity of the life I’d led only a short time ago and even for Tanner. He had been a flawed man, and although it seemed as if he’d been driven by pure greed, I’m not sure pure greed exists. I think instead that, like most people, Tanner wanted to be happy, and in the past he had found a certain type of happiness in money and status. To have those stripped away was like watching himself be stripped away piece by piece. When he couldn’t regain those things, he grew reckless, grasping at anything that might help him recover some semblance of joy, maybe a few stray moments of peace. I suppose he’s found that peace now at last.

Outside the police station, I stop and turn around. The station is one of the newer ones with an architecturally pleasing glass front and a smattering of sculptures. The group files out onto the sidewalk with me, everyone blinking in the sun.

There is Q and Shane. They seem very much like a couple suddenly with their shared gazes and subtle-but-certain touches. Shane is shell-shocked with the news that his best friend killed his father, but I sense that later, somehow, Shane will be okay. With the new confidence he’s had to acquire and with the support of Q, I think he’s going to make his father very proud, even if it’s not exactly in the way Forester had envisioned.

Maggie squints at the bright Saturday morning. Of all of us, she should be the most tired, since she spent the night managing the cops as only a magician could, running between interrogation rooms where each of us was until the cops could untwist the entire story. Instead, Maggie is jazzed up and buoyant, looking more like a college student in her jeans and big sweater than a top-notch criminal lawyer. She gives everyone her card with instructions to call with any questions. She grabs Sam and whispers something to him, their heads bowed. I’m sure it’s something to do with the fact that now she’ll be taking him to the FBI.