“Son of a bitch,” Weston groaned, shoving his pillow over his head in a futile attempt to shield himself from this latest influx of noise, “you’ve gotta be joking. When the hell does this stop?”

At this point, being woken up by the ringing of his telephone should have just been an expectation for him. It had happened so many times that it might as well have been the plan all along, as if he’d set up some kind of a service similar to that of a hotel wakeup service, only one that called any old time it felt like it. It was something he certainly wasn’t a fan of, there was no denying that, but in a way, it was better now than it had been a week ago. In a weird way, a lot of things were better now than they had been a week ago. If somebody had asked him when he’d first become a cop if being suspended would be the catalyst to anything good for himself, he would have laughed in his or her face, but now? Now, it turned out that having that time to himself wasn’t such a bad thing at all. At the time, when he’d left the captain’s office and stalked back home, he’d been so furious, he couldn’t even begin to think straight. It was with that complete and utter lack of thought that Weston had come up with that whole going out of town plan, something he would never have come up with had he been in anything close to his right mind. But he hadn’t been in his right mind, and when Clara had tried to call in the reinforcements of her friends, he had been pleasantly surprised to find that Elsie was squarely on his side. And so they had traveled to Hawaii and once he was there, everything had just kind of fallen into place. He’d realized there that he couldn’t deny the fact that he wanted Clara staying with him for more than just her safety. He wanted her there because he liked her. He liked her very much and thought that, given more time and less chaotic circumstances, he might actually fall in love with her. That was something he’d been sure would never happen to him again, and the realization of it was something bordering on lifechanging. It had made his suspension seem like no big deal. It had in fact made him question whether or not he would ever choose to return to the force at all. There were plenty of other things he could do, one of which was going out on his own and setting up a detective’s agency. He even had this insane idea of asking Clara to go into it with him, to use her computer skills to help him get things up and running. There were many, many things he could do, and for the first time, he was able to see that. Because of this, he slept easier, slept in for Christ’s sake, for the first time since he was in grade school. Because of this, he was far less pissed off to hear his phone ring than he would have been before, far less pissed off until he sat up and saw who it was trying to get in touch with him. He considered not answering it at all, then cleared his throat and answered it anyway.

“What do you want?”

“Shit, is that the way you greet a friend? I’d hate to think of how you answer the phone when you gotta enemy trying to get in touch.”

“Who said we were friends?”

“Aw, come on, man. Don’t be like that. You know I only did what I had to do. You woulda done the same thing if things had been turned around the other way.”

Weston pulled the phone away from his ear and stared down at it, completely caught off by how little responsibility he was trying to take for his actions. Vick had done a hell of a job of throwing him under the bus, and he’d topped it all off with an attempt at throwing a punch. He didn’t know what could have possessed the man, who had until very recently been his partner, to call him up out of the blue like this, but he wasn’t having any part in it. Forgiving and forgetting wasn’t exactly his forte, and he didn’t see any reason why he should start being that way now.

“That’s the thing, Vick, things wouldn’t have ever been the other way around because I wouldn’t have done that to you. There have been plenty of things you fucked up while we’ve been partners, and I made the not-so-difficult choice of keeping it to myself. I guess that’s where the two of us differ, man. You know, in how far our loyalty will stretch.”

This mini-speech was followed by a silence that went on for long enough that Weston started to wonder if Vick was even there anymore. He wouldn’t have put it past him to hang up. The thing that made the whole thing so shitty was that for almost all of the time they’d known each other, Vick had been a really standup guy. He’d always been on Weston’s side to the point of being pushy, nosey like an overbearing mom. It was only at the very last that he’d abandoned this policy, which left Weston with a bad taste in his mouth but also with the memory of all of those times Vick had been there for him one hundred percent. It made it a hell of a lot harder for him to stay aloof, made it harder not to just shrug his shoulders and say he was ready to let bygones be bygones. When Vick finally did speak again, and he did so shortly, apparently having decided not to hang up the phone after all, he talked as if he could read the thoughts running through Weston’s mind. Weston could hear the crack of emotion in the older man’s voice, something just about as rare as the chance of seeing a unicorn trotting own the middle of Madison Avenue, he shut his eyes and winced. He’d been feeling pretty fucking good only moments ago and now he felt like he was on the verge of getting one monster of a headache.

“Look man, what happened with the captain, it was no good, alright? I can admit that, if that’s what you need.”

“Don’t do me any favors, man.”

“Come on now! I’m trying to make amends, alright? Why you gotta go and make it so fucking hard?”

“Fine,” Weston answered grudgingly, feeling himself warming ever so slightly to the betrayer of a partner and wishing he was made of even slightly stronger stuff, “keep talking. I’ll do my best to keep my mouth shut.”

“Ha! Sure, I bet. All’s I’m trying to say is that I’ve always been there for you in the past. Maybe I fucked up this time—and that’s on me. I can tell you this; it’s been absolute shit doing the job without you. It’d be good to have you back around again, man. Really good.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see that happening any time soon. I haven’t heard anything from the captain. Not a word. Besides, man, I don’t know how keen I am on coming back, at least not right away. Having a vacation, even though it’s been forced, it’s been nice. I think I’ve been white knuckling my way through things for way too long now. I didn’t even realize it, either.”

“Shit, kid, I coulda told you that.”

“You know I went to Hawaii? Just picked up with some people and went. I woulda never done anything like that before. You know, before the suspension.”

“That’s great, kid. Really, that’s great. I gotta ask you a question, though, if that’s alright by you.”

“Okay, you can ask,” Weston answered wearily, immediately back on the defensive when he heard the tone of Vick’s voice, “doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll answer, but you can ask.”

“You still hanging out with her? That chick, Clara? You still hanging around with that broad?”

“Why do you want to know? Were you interested in going back and letting the captain know? What are you, like, spying for him now?”

“Cripes. I know I deserve that, but it still don’t feel so hot hearing it. No, that’s not why I’m asking. I’m actually asking because something funny’s been brought to my attention, and I wanted to know if it’s something you need to be let in on.”

“Okay then, yes. We’re still ‘hanging around,’ if that’s the way you want to put it. Why?”

“It’s just this call I got from one of the boys working as a guard out at the prison. He saw something peculiar and thought maybe I should know about it.”

“It’s a prison, Vick. Plenty of peculiar things go on there. Any chance of you being a little bit more specific?”

“It was somebody going to visit the Caleb Grant guy’s brother. Don’t remember his name, just that it starts with an m.”

“Marlin,” Weston answered hesitantly, starting to feel a weird kind of panic building up inside of him. “His name is Marlin. Why does that fall under the category of weird enough to warrant a call?”

“Well, for more than one reason, according to what the guy told me.”

“Hold on, first of all, how do we know this is a guy we can trust?”

“You shitting me? I’ve got people planted all over the place giving me updates and I make sure they get enough compensation to make staying on my payroll worth it. Besides, this kid’s alright. He’s a lot like you were, before...well, you know.”

“Before my wife got run over like a dog in the street?”

“Yeah,” Vick responded slowly, his voice taking on a dejected tone that made Weston wish he hadn’t gone to quite such a gruesome place.

“Sorry man, shouldn’t have said that. Go on.”

“He’s a lot like you were, that eager, Leave It to Beaver type, you know? He wants to make a difference, wants to help people if he can, and that even includes the inmates themselves. He’s been keeping an eye on Marlin Grant.”

“Why’s that?”

“At first it was because he looked like he’d get the shit beat out of him, or at least that’s what the guard tells me. Marlin wasn’t exactly the typical kind of guy they got back behind those bars and those are the kinds of guys who wind up in trouble.”

“You said that’s why he watched him in the beginning.”

“That’s right, I did.”

“So then it’s not why he watched him now?”

“Nope, not anymore. He watches him now because he’s pretty sure he’s up to something. You know how it goes, kid. With some of those guys, they get locked up behind those bars, and they do everything they can to make things in their lives different, to make it so that there’s some chance of them getting free or to get right with their God or whatever it is that drives them. Some of them, though, they don’t take that route. Some of ‘em just keep right on scheming, and this guard of mine’s got a feeling that’s the way Marlin has chosen to use his time.”

“Sure, makes sense, at least based on everything I’ve heard about the bastard and the things he did to land himself in there in the first place. I get that part, but what I’m still not seeing is you needed to call me about it. How are those tabs he’s feeding you related to me in any way whatsoever? Especially when I’m on leave, Vick. You aren’t making a whole lot of sense.”

“It’s Clara, kid, okay? She was there.”

“What do you mean, she was there?”

“I mean she was there, visiting him at the prison. The first reason my guy noticed it was that she wasn’t on the visitors’ list. That was something that made him sit up and take some notice. The second thing was that this is the second visit she’s paid him, which stands out because she’s the only one who’s ever come to see the jackass, aside from his rich-ass mommy. The last thing was the way the meeting ended.”

“I don’t know what that means, Vick. How did it end?”

“Let’s just say this, shall we? Whatever she had to say to him, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He got all fucking pissed off when she got up to go, calling her names and threatening her and shit. He had to be restrained, man. They had to drag him back to his cell, and that ain’t Marlin Grant’s typical thing. He’s a shit, there’s no denying that, but he’s not usually difficult with the guards. He was mad, man, like, crazy mad.”

“Alright. Okay, I get it. Thanks man, I mean it.”

“Any chance this makes us square?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Thank Christ. I haven’t heard the end of this shit from my wife. Think she’s about ready to up and divorce my ass if I don’t make things right with you.”

“Ha! Your wife always was smarter than you, Vick, you know it?”

“I do. Hey, kid, I got one more question for you, if that’s alright.”

“Shoot. Don’t see how it can hurt at this point.”

“You and her. Clara, I mean. You two an item?”

“I don’t know. I think so. I think once this shit is done we will be. I really like her, man. I like her a lot. She makes me happier than I’ve been since Bri and the baby. And just so you know, she wasn’t lying, for what it’s worth. Whoever killed her cat, came after her, roughed her up good.”

“Jesus, Weston, why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you come to the captain?”

“Would you have done that? If you were me, would you have done that, tried again?”

“No, I don’t guess I would have. I feel like a real piece of shit, you know that?”

“You’ll get over it,” Weston said with a smile, almost desperate to get off of the phone at this point, but also feeling a strong sense of relief to have this beef with Vick finally settled. “I have faith in you.”

“Yeah man, thanks, I guess. You go look after your girl, okay? I think she might have been right, her and you, too. I think she might be in some serious shit, so you go and look after her, and when you get shit sorted out, bring her by the house for dinner or something. My wife will have an absolute conniption if you do, and I might finally be out of the doghouse.”

“Will do, Vick. Talk later.”

Weston hung up the phone and then had to resist the urge to hurl it across the room. When in the hell was everything going to come together at the same time? Things were back online with Vick, and that was good, but now what in the hell was going on with Clara? She’d told him she was going to see Elsie, and instead she’d gone to visit Marlin Grant, something he was assuming she hadn’t bothered to tell her friend Elsie or her friend’s lover. Whatever she was doing, she wanted to do it under the veil of complete secrecy, and that was something Weston couldn’t help but find completely terrifying. All he wanted was to go find her and ask her what in God’s name she was doing, except that he had no idea where she was. Vick had said she’d left, and from the way he’d spoken, Weston had the feeling she’d done so a while ago. If that were the case, she should have been home by now, but she was nowhere to be found. He tried calling her, reminding himself as the phone rang to stay as calm as he was able when she answered the phone so as not to scare her off before he could figure out where the hell she was. As it turned out, though, there was no need for the reminder of self-control because she didn’t answer her phone. Not only did she not answer it, it didn’t even ring. It went straight to voicemail, making him so over-the-top frustrated that he probably really would have thrown his phone if it hadn’t rung again right at that moment. When he saw that it was Clara’s friend Finnley, he almost dropped the phone in his hurry to answer it. He was very close to falling into the abyss of panic at this point and his best bet for keeping that at bay was to hear some kind of information he could use from one of Clara’s friends.

“Finnley,” he barked, sounding much harsher than intended but not willing to take the time to backtrack and apologize for himself, “what is it? Are you calling about Clara?”

“Um, yes,” she answered quickly, her voice sounding so confused that Weston’s stomach immediately began to drop again. “Why? What’s wrong. I can hear it in your voice, Weston, something’s going on.”

“There’s honestly no time for me to get into it with you, okay? In fact, if this isn’t something really fucking important, we best save this conversation for a later date. I need to find her.”

“This can’t wait. I learned something, Weston. I think I learned the something.”

“I don’t know what that means, Finnley! Cut the cryptic bullshit and tell me what you called to say!”

“The guy who killed her cat! The guy that roughed her up. I’ve been doing some digging, like, a hell of a lot of digging, and I found something. His name is Peter Sanchez, and he was in the same prison as Caleb’s brother. He’s been following all of us actually, me, Clara, Elsie and Caleb. He’s been keeping tabs on all of us electronically since before he got out.”

“Got out? What the hell do you mean, got out? What was he in for to begin with?”

“Murder,” Finnley gulped, her voice taking on a hitching quality that told Weston she was very close to losing it herself. “He murdered his mom. I don’t understand how he got off because I’m not a lawyer, but he had a really good one. Marlin paid for it, using money he got from his mom. Marlin wanted Peter Sanchez out on the streets, and I’m pretty sure it was to go after Clara.”

“But why her? You said he’s been keeping tabs on all of you, right? So why her?”

“Because. He learned something about her. He’s super-good with computers, good enough that if he wasn’t a total psychopath we’d want him working with us for sure. He found something out about her and knowing it made her the weakest link. I think Marlin Grant was trying to have her spy on us, Weston. I think he was blackmailing her to find a way to get back at Caleb and Elsie for taking him down.”

Weston felt his heart leap up into his throat and then simply stop beating. He felt like he would suffocate on it, like he would fall over dead right there in his big fancy loft, that he would die there all alone. Something about what Finnley was telling him clicked with the information he’d just gotten from Vick and somehow, he just knew. Marlin was angry, very angry, angry enough to act the most violent the prison had ever seen with him, and he’d gotten that way when Clara came to visit him and then walked away. If he’d been that angry, chances were she’d told him to take his blackmail and shove it, and if that was the case, she was in real trouble indeed. He took a deep breath and summoned every bit of calm he had, willing Finnley to do follow his lead and do the same.

“Finnley, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?”

“I think so. Yes, in fact. Yes, I can do that.”

“I need you to tell me everything you know. And when I say everything, I mean everything.”