Fiske settled a very cold gaze on her. She expected him to erupt. Instead, he said, I am, was, whatever, jealous of my brother. Who wouldnt be?

But that doesnt make it right.

Maybe it doesnt, Fiske said, his voice tired. He looked away. The first time I visited Mom and she called me Mike, I thought it was a temporary thing, you know, she was having a real bad day. After two months of it . . . He paused. Well, thats when I cut Mike off. For good. Everything that had ever ticked me off about him, no matter how stupid, I just blew up into a huge picture of this evil sonofabitch with no heart, nothing good. He had taken my mother away from me.

John, the day we came to see you at trial, I went with Michael to see your mother.

He tensed. What?

Your mother wouldnt even talk to him. He brought her a gift, she wouldnt take it. He told me she was always like that. He assumed that it was because she loved you so much, that she didnt care about him

Youre lying, Fiske said in a hushed tone.

No, Im not. Its the truth.

Youre lying! he said again, more forcefully.

Ask some of the people who work there. They know.

A few minutes of silence passed. Fiskes head was bowed. When he looked back up, he said, I never really thought about him losing his mother too.

Are you sure about that? Sara asked quietly. Fiske stared at her, his hands clenched. What do you mean? he said, his voice shaking.

What stopped you from talking to your brother? Michael told me you had shut him out, and you just admitted that. Even so, I cant believe you never knew how she treated him.

For a full minute Fiske said nothing. He stared at Sara, perhaps through her; his eyes revealed nothing of what he was thinking. Finally, he closed his eyes and said in a barely audible tone, I knew.

He looked at her. The terrible pain on his features made her tremble.

I just didnt want to care, Fiske said. Sara gripped his shoulder tightly. I guess I used it as an excuse not to have anything to do with my own brother. He took another deep breath. Theres something else. Mike did call me, before he went to the prison. I didnt call him back. Not until it was too late. . . . I killed him.

You cant blame yourself for that. Saras words had no effect, she could see that, so she changed tactics. If you want to blame yourself, then do it for the right reason. You unfairly cut your brother out of your life. You were wrong to do that. Very wrong. Now hes gone. Thats something youll have to live with forever, John.

Now he looked at her. His face grew calmer. I guess Ive been living with it already.

Since he had confided in her, Sara decided it was only fair to reciprocate. I saw your father today. Before Fiske could say anything, she hurried on. I promised you I would. I told him what really happened.

And he believed you, Fiske said skeptically.

I was telling the truth. Hes going to call you.

Thanks, but I wish you had kept out of it.

He filled in some gaps for me.

Like what? Fiske said sharply.

Like what happened to make you stop being a cop.

Dammit, Sara, you had no need to know that.

Yes, I did. A great reason.

What is it?

You know what!

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Fiske looked down at the table too, and fiddled with his straw. Finally, he sat back and crossed his arms. So my dad told you everything?

Sara glanced up at him. About the shooting, yes. Her tone was cautious.

So you know Im probably not going to be alive and kicking when Im sixty or maybe even fifty.

I think you can beat any odds someone throws at you.

And if I dont?

If you dont, that doesnt matter to me.

He leaned forward. But it matters to me, Sara.

So you give up the life you do have?

I think Im leading my life exactly how I want to.

Maybe you are, she quietly conceded.

It would never work, you know.

So youve thought about it?

Ive thought about it. Have you? How do you know this isnt another impulse decision? Like buying your house?

Its what I feel.

Feelings change.

And its so much easier to admit defeat rather than work at something.

When I want something, I work very hard at it. Fiske had no idea why he said that, but he saw the devastated look on Saras face.

I see. And I guess I have no choice in the matter?

You really dont want to have to make that kind of a choice. She said nothing and Fiske remained quiet for a moment. You know, my dad didnt tell you everything, because he doesnt know everything.

He told me how you almost died, how the other officer did die. And the man who shot you. I can understand how that could change your life. How it could make you do what you do. I think its very noble, if thats the right word.

Thats not even close. Do you really want to know why I do what I do?

Sara could sense the sudden change of mood. Tell me.

Because Im scared. He nodded at her. Fear drives me. The longer I was a cop, the more it became us against them. Young, angry, attitude, with a pistol to back it all up. Fiske stopped speaking and watched through the glass partition as people inside bought refreshments. They appeared carefree, happy, pursuing some tangible goal in their lives; they were everything he wasnt, couldnt be. He looked back at Sara. I kept arresting the same guys over and over and it seemed like before I filed the paperwork they were back on the streets. And theyd blow you away like stepping on a cockroach. See, they lived the game of us against them too. You lump people together. Young and black, catch em if you can. Blues coming at you? Kill em if you can. Its quick and you dont have to make choices about individuals. Its like a drug addiction.

Not everybody does that. The whole world isnt made up of people like that.

I know that. I know that most people, black, white or whatever, are good people, lead relatively normal lives. I really want to believe that. Its just that as a cop I never saw any of that. Normal ships didnt sail by my dock.

So did the shooting make you rethink things?

Fiske didnt answer right away. When he did, he spoke slowly. I remember dropping to my knees to check the guy, who it turned out was faking a seizure. I heard the gun go off, my partner scream. I pulled my pistol at the same time I was turning. I dont know how I got a round off, but I did. It hit him right in the chest. We both went down. He lost his gun, but I kept mine. Pointed it right at him. He wasnt more than a foot from me. Every breath he took, blood kicked out of the bullet hole like a red geyser. It made this swishing sound I still hear in my sleep. His eyes had started to freeze up, but you never knew. All I knew was that he had just shot my backup, and he had just shot me. My insides felt like they were dissolving. Fiske let out a long breath. I was going to just wait for him to die, Sara. Fiske stopped talking as he recalled how close he had come to being another blue in a box, buried and mostly forgotten.

Your father said you were found with your arm around him, Sara gently prompted.

I thought he was trying to grab my gun. I had one finger on the trigger and one finger stuck in the hole in my gut. But he didnt even put his hand out. Then I heard him talking. I could barely make out what he was saying at first, but he kept saying it until I did.

What did he say? Sara asked gently. Fiske let out a breath, half expecting to see blood kick out of his old wounds, his tired, betrayed organs calling it quits on him forty years early. He was asking me to kill him. As if in answer to her unspoken question, Fiske said, I couldnt. I didnt. It didnt matter, though, he stopped talking a few seconds later.

Sara slowly sat back, unable to say anything.

I actually think he was terrified hewasntgoing to die. Fiske shook his head slowly, the words becoming more difficult to put together. He was only nineteen. Im an old man already, next to him. His name was Darnell Darnell Jackson. His mother was a crack addict, and when he was eight or nine she would whore him out for drug money.