“They’re pros. I wouldn’t have even seen the drugs had I not gone snooping around, and I was a driver. Nobody handles the stuff that doesn’t explicitly have to. I wonder how many of them even know.”

“Where’d you call him from last time?”

“A payphone, outside a tobacco shop.”

Raphino nodded again. “Good. Good work. Use it again, but just once more. After that you’ll have to find another. The little things are important.”

It was dark when I called Korman the second time.

“Money’s in the mail,” I said, standing at the payphone and looking at a vacant parking lot.

“Very well,” he said. “We can start.” He could have been a radio host for some rock and roll station. His voice was weathered and commanding; there were no wasted words. “Tell me everything you know.”

I did, retracing the story from when I arrived through the past week. A few times Korman stopped me for clarification, but mostly he listened and typed. This time, I left out nothing.

“That all?” he asked when I finished.

“From what I remember,” I said.

“Here’s what will happen: I’ll do what I can on this in the next few days remotely. I’m finishing up another job, but that shit should be wrapped by the weekend. Then I’m gonna drink beer and watch the playoffs for twenty-four hours, and after that I’ll head to the Rockies. You won’t see me until I want you to. Keep your head down.”

He hung up.

47

In the six days until Dallas Korman contacted me again—in the flesh this time, through cigarette smoke and the endearing haze of a beer buzz—three important things happened. First, someone broke into Raphino’s house while he was at work. He was unsure if it was related to our investigation. He texted me to meet him at Angelo’s –our code word for Earl’s—the evening after it happened.

“I filed a report,” he said over a muted Stones track, “because I have to. They poked around for an hour and confirmed nothing was missing. Someone’s coming to fix the front door.”

“They didn’t take anything?” I asked.

He shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Chances are it’s just some bored kids. No need to worry.”

I mentioned that it might make sense to call the investigation off.

“No,” he said. “Even if it was somehow related—and I don’t know how, ‘cause we’ve been careful—even if it was, it wasn’t nothing more than a scare tactic. They know they can’t harm a cop.”

“Yeah, but I don’t…”

“Like I said, probably unrelated,” he interrupted. “We keep going forward just like we planned. But just in case, you and me aren’t gonna meet anymore until you hear from Korman. Minimize contact. Just a good practice.”

I agreed not to contact him until Korman turned up with something. I paid for the drinks.

Second, Adeline showed up to my apartment again, drunk, unannounced, and looking to hook up. It was 10 p.m. When I heard her knock, I jumped an inch off the love seat, and my eyes darted toward the bedside nightstand that held the .45.

I carefully looked through the peephole and saw her leaning on the door, eyes half closed.

“I’ve missed you,” she said when I let her in. Her breath smelled of sour mash.

“What are you doing here?”

She scoffed. “Have you gotten stupid, Julian?” She walked to my fridge for a beer.

“You can’t stay.”

She swayed around the kitchen and searched for a bottle opener.

“I told you last time, no more,” I said.

“You said that many times,” she said to the counter.

“This time I meant it.”

She found the opener and took a slug off the bottle, then walked back toward me. Slowly and wobbly.

“You keep lying to yourself,” she said, eyes looking into mine.

“No, you do.”

She laughed and grabbed the front of my shirt. She leaned in. “Come on,” she whispered. “You know you want to.”

I’d always given in to her. Willingly at first, excitedly even, and reluctantly in the later days, but I’d always given in. Because I wanted it, and because it was easy. I still wanted it, still desired her body next to mine, and it was still easy. But the reward was no longer worth the attachments. The juice was no longer worth the squeeze. Her power over me would continue until I decided it wouldn’t, and it had been that simple the entire time.

I denied her again, pushing her away and telling her whatever we had was over, and her anger bubbled. She yelled. I asked her to keep her voice down. She did not.

“Just who the fuck do you think you are,” she said. It was a statement, not a question.

“This was never right,” I said, normal volume. “You know that.”

“And since when do you care about moral high ground? Since when?”

The sex wasn’t the issue. She wasn’t used to hearing “no.”

“You need to think very carefully about what you’re doing,” she said, her voice coming down a little. “Very carefully. I could ruin you.”

“Could you?”

She threw her hands up. “How dumb are you, really?”

“I know you can’t tell anyone,” I said. “About us. You wouldn’t do that. Vince finding out would be as damaging to you as it would to me.”

“You actually believe that?”

“I do.”

“Then you’ve made a big mistake, Julian. You’re ruining yourself and I don’t even give a shit.”

“You won’t tell him,” I said.

She shrugged. “I tried to explain it to you once. That I’m in control. Here and elsewhere. He’s no more powerful than I am.”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

She smiled a wide, devious smile that would stay with me. I would remember the smile.

“Have a nice night, Julian. Take care of yourself.”

The third important thing that happened in the six days until Dallas Korman contacted me again was Vince meeting me face to face. This occurred the day after my confrontation with Adeline, and as such, if he had summoned me to his office, I would not have gone. But he came to me.

48

There were two knocks at the door. Clean and quick, like a delivery driver. They startled me off the couch, where I was watching daytime television and debating the validity of Adeline’s threats. I was anxious, and desperately wanted to hear from Dallas Korman or Raphino. The .45 sat on the couch beside me.

If they were coming for me, they wouldn’t knock. This thought was the only thing that allowed me to approach the door.

When I saw him, I cracked the door slightly.

“Vince,” I said.

“Hello Julian.” He smiled. “We need to chat. The two of us.” He looked sleep deprived, but not angry.

“What about?”

“The polite thing to do would be to invite me in.”

I looked back inside at the gun on the couch. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“Julian, I came all the way down.”

I looked back inside. “Give me a second.”

I stuffed the gun under the couch and let him in. We sat on folding chairs I used as a makeshift kitchen set. I asked if he wanted coffee and he politely declined.

He squared to me and looked me in the eye. “How is your state of mind?”

“Fine. Great.”

“You sure?”

The gun was too far away. I wanted it closer. It would be comforting if it was closer.

“Yes. Is my work suffering?”

“Of course not. Strong as usual. But work is the only place I’ve seen you. It’s the only place anyone has seen you. You have isolated yourself, it seems.”

I shrugged, hoping it seemed natural. “Not intentionally.”

His head nodded. “Your friends have left. I understand. It’s unfair, but sometimes things are out of our control.”