“They know,” I said. “About Simington.”

“Oh,” he said. “Want me to run them off?”

“Nah. It’s fine. They’ve stopped knocking on the door.”

“Simington’s all over the TV, too,” he said.

“I figured. That’s why I haven’t turned it on.” I picked up an envelope off the kitchen counter and handed it to him. “For you.”

“For me? For what?”

“Your car.”

“Noah, man, no. You don’t have to—”

Insurance wouldn’t cover the car and my guilt. “Yes, I do. It’s yours. I’m sorry it happened.”

He didn’t open the envelope, just shoved it in the back pocket of his shorts. “Alright. Thanks.”

I nodded. “I want to go see Moffitt, but I don’t see how we get out of here without them following.”

“No way we can bail right now,” he said. “They’re all up and down the alley. Think they’ll stay the night?”

“Some maybe, but not all of them,” I said. “Probably go home and come back first thing in the morning.”

“So we could get out tonight and be up there in the morning.”

“Yeah.”

“And I had an idea,” he said. “An idea?”

“About how to handle Moffitt. To make sure you get what you need from him.” “Let’s hear it.”

He told me his plan. I liked it. And I hadn’t thought of anything else.

“Let’s do it,” I said.

He went to the door. “Okay. I’ll get what we need. Why don’t you call me around midnight and tell me what it looks like around here. I can pick you up a couple of blocks away or something. I’ll have a ride by then.”

“Alright.” I hesitated. “Hey. You don’t have to do this. I can do it alone. I don’t know how it’s gonna go and I don’t want—”

He held up a big hand. “Stop right there. Liz and I … we weren’t close. But you and she were. That’s enough for me.” He nodded like he’d said all that mattered. “Call me around midnight.”

SIXTY-THREE

It took two more nights before I could shake free. The police had no luck in finding Keene, even after I shared my belief that he was responsible for the destruction of Carter’s car. He was running free somewhere.

The media had made themselves at home on the boardwalk and in the alley. I tried to get out once to go to the grocery store, but I was immediately swarmed and I retreated inside. The vans were spending the night in the alley—anytime I stepped outside, even in the middle of the night, someone on watch snapped to life.

I was fed up with being trapped in my own house and told Carter I was getting out that night, regardless of who followed me. We made plans to meet five blocks away a little after midnight. The boardwalk was empty, and I walked all the way down to the shoreline and then up the beach before turning back up and getting out onto Mission. My long way around worked, and I arrived out on the street alone.

Carter pulled up in a Ford F-250 pickup, the huge diesel engine idling like a plane’s as I opened the door.

“Yours?” I asked as I stepped up and into the cab.

“Sort of,” he said, shrugging.

I reminded myself not to ask.

We made the drive out to Bareva in under an hour, thanks to the time of night. The casino was lit up like Christmas, and the parking lot was nearly full.

Cha-ching.

We parked at the far end of the lot, and Carter shut off the engine.

“We just nap now?” Carter asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Nothing to do until morning.” I glanced at him. “You got what you need?”

He pointed his thumb toward the rear window and the bed of the truck. “Back there.”

I twisted around and saw a black tarp with a few shapes barely visible beneath it.

“Wake me when you’re ready,” he said, slouching down and closing his eyes.

SIXTY-FOUR

I figured hanging out in the casino would be a good way to get Benjamin Moffitt’s attention.

I woke Carter at nine and told him I was going in. He shook the sleep out of his eyes and said he’d do his thing. I walked away from the truck, wondering if we could pull it off.

I roamed the gaming floor for an hour, keeping an eye out for anyone and anything that looked familiar. Walking in slow circles, I watched as the hardcore gamblers mixed with the day tourists who made the drive out to Bareva. I couldn’t help but wonder if Simington ever gambled at any of these machines.

After walking around for a little while longer, I took the elevators up to the fourth floor, where Carter and I had gone the first time. The same receptionist greeted me.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Ben Moffitt.”

“I’m sorry sir, but—”

“You told me the same thing a couple of weeks ago,” I said, my voice sounding hollow. “Get on the phone and tell him Braddock isn’t leaving until I talk to him.”

She hesitated.

“Now!” I yelled at her.

She jumped in her seat but picked up the phone. Thirty seconds later, the elevators opened behind me and Gus and Ross emerged. Gus was still sporting a bandage along his left temple. “Let’s go,” Ross said.

“You take me anywhere but to Moffitt and I’ll make hitting him with a pitcher look like fun,” I said, walking toward the elevator.

They stepped into the elevator behind me, and the doors closed. Ross pushed an unnumbered button, and the car began to rise.

Gus crowded in closer to me. “You think you’re a badass ‘cause you got off one shot? Why don’t you—”

I pivoted and drove my fist into his midsection. He gasped, and I brought the heel of my hand up under his jaw. His teeth clacked shut, and blood spurted out his mouth, probably from biting his tongue. I hit him again in the stomach, and he slumped to the floor.

I swiveled toward Ross. “You wanna go?”

Ross held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, man, I’m just taking you to Mr. Moffitt’s office.”

I turned back to the crumpled Gus, now breathing heavily. “If you fuckin’ move before I get out of this elevator, you will never move again.”

Gus just continued to squeeze his eyes shut as the blood leaked out of his mouth.

I wasn’t kidding. Gus had stepped into the wrong place at the wrong time. Anger was rippling through my body, and I didn’t need an excuse to unleash it.

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened. I stepped out. The doors closed and sent Gus away.

Ross and I walked down the corridor toward Moffitt’s office and found him sitting behind his desk.

He looked up and smiled. “Mr. Braddock, nice to see you again.” He glanced past me at Ross. “Thank you, Ross. That will be all.”

Ross looked concerned, like maybe he should mention that I’d flattened Gus in the elevator. But he wasn’t confident enough to stand up to his boss’s dismissal. He hesitated, then sort of shrugged and left, closing the office doors behind him.

“So, Mr. Braddock,” Moffitt said. “What can I do for you today?”

“You’re going to tell me about Landon Keene,” I said.

A moment of forced confusion flickered through his features. “I think you mentioned his name last time and—”

I walked around the desk, grabbed him by the shirt, and lifted him out of the leather chair. Shock registered on his face, and he slapped at my hands. I shoved him over to the window and banged his forehead on the glass.

“Look carefully,” I said.

“What?” Moffitt said, his voice frantic. “What?”

“Two hundred yards in front of you,” I said. “Do you see him?”

He steadied himself, now looking out the window, probably wondering what the hell he was supposed to see. Then he said, “Jesus Christ.”

“That’s right,” I said, glancing up and spotting Carter outside, aiming the rifle right at us. “I’m going to let you go, but you aren’t going to move. If you do, he’s going to make your head a convertible before you get more than a foot. Do you understand?”

“Jesus Christ,” he repeated.

“I seriously doubt he will be the one to greet you in the afterlife. Do you understand me?” “Yes! Shit, yes! I get it.”