Quinn

“So when are you getting back on the horse?”

“Hello to you, too, Max,” I say, shaking my head at my older brother.

“What? I’m trying to tough love you. Everyone else is coddling.”

I sit up on the couch and swing my legs around. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, when was the last time you were robbed at gunpoint and had to watch a man damn near die in front of you?”

“I’m not saying I know what you’re going—”

I hold up my hand. “No, if you’re smart you aren’t, because trust me you have no clue what I’m dealing with. And for your information, I go back to work after this weekend.”

He irritates me like a fresh batch of poison ivy. I know that he’s trying to be helpful in his completely over the top way, but I can’t handle his crap right now. The boy has led a charmed life. He has good looks, a talent he didn’t have to work for, and all the privileges afforded the first born and only male. A freelance travel writer, Max tours the world on someone else’s dime and makes his own schedule. I’m not knocking him; he took his skill for writing and morphed it into a career that he loves, and I applaud him for that that.

But in all that constant on the go, and lack of anchoring responsibilities, he often forgets what life is like for those of us left behind with things like mortgages, friends, families, bills, and a more traditional gig closer to nine to five hours that requires adulting and peopling. He gets to fly solo, and charm the locals while he eats in tiny hidden spots and sips on wine with his camera in hand.

“Good. You’ve been cooped up here long enough.” He plops down on the couch.

“Did you come here just to bust my chops or is there a reason?”

“Can’t a big brother check on his sister?”

“Not when he’s hassling her. I’m fine, by the way, thanks for asking.”

He flashes me a pearly white grin, and I roll my eyes. Not working on me today.

“I wanted to rattle your cage a bit.”

“Why in the hell would you want to do that?” I sneer.

“To make sure you’re still in there. You haven’t been yourself lately, and yes I completely understand why, but it worried me.”

The truth behind his actions cools the flames fueling my anger.

“You could’ve lead with that.”

“Not my style. Besides, I wanted to see your response.”

“And what’s the verdict, judge?” I ask.

“My Quinn is still in there. She’s suppressed as hell, though. I know I seem like an asshole, but the longer you let this go, the more it becomes your new norm. You’ve been in the house more often than not, and I know you aren’t keeping in touch with me the way you used to, so I can only assume it’s the same for others.”

Because I don’t want to have lovely little chats like this.

“I just don’t feel up to it. I think I’m allowed some time to process.”

“It’s been almost a month,” Max says.

“Which is the blink of an eye.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him the paranoia keeps me in on days I normally would be out and about, and has kept my sleep in small, stolen bunches.

“Don’t get defensive, sis. I’m only being real.”

“No, you’re a presumptuous prick. I’m dealing, I’m healing, and I’m functioning just fine. Unlike Ollie, my wounds aren’t on the outside. Believe me, knowing someone risked their life for you is a powerful thing that takes time to digest.”

“Ollie? Are you still in contact with that guy?”

“Yes. I probably will be for the rest of my life.”

“What do you even know about him?” Max asks as he angles his body toward me.

“Now who’s defensive?” I ask with a smirk.

His brow furrows and his thick brows draw down over the deep-set, dark brown eyes so like our father’s. His hair is cut close to his head in a fade that hides his natural curl pattern, and his skin is a rich blend of our mother’s mahogany tone and our father’s chestnut brown. It’s a blemish free skin I’d wanted to kill him for in high school when I went through my breakouts. I was a late-blooming flower. A fact I’m grateful for now. I can see now how it freed me up to focus on other things. But, back then it’d been heartbreaking.

“It’s my job. I’ve never heard you mention him before.”

“I told you, I know him through Efia. I was on a gig. It’s why his sacrifice is so amazing. I didn’t know him from Adam.”

“And now you’re what, bosom buddies?”

“Thank you, Tom Hanks. No, we’re friends who are getting to know one another better, like any other people who meet each other.”

“Is this romantic?”

I snort. “Seriously?” I recall the man who’s become the one person I think understands me right now. This hit him harder, physically and emotionally. We’re kindred spirits now.

“Yes. It’d be easy to mistake an emotionally charged life altering situation like this for—”

“Let me stop you right there before you piss me off. Neither of us is in the market for romance, and if we were it’d be none of your business. I appreciate your concern and that you feel this is your right as a big brother, but we both know I don’t need it. I’m thirty-five, Max. I’m not a little girl, and I can take care of myself.”

He tosses me a black look. “I’m always going to worry.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop. I’m telling you it’s not needed and there are clear boundaries. When and if I decide to date, I’ll introduce him at the time I choose and not a minute before. I’m so single it’s not even funny, so you can let your big brother Spidey senses recalibrate and go into hibernation.”

He laughs. “You always had a way with words. I still think you should try your hand at writing.”

“My dance card is full, thanks. How about we not make this visit all about me? Are you dating?”

“No time, sis. It would take one hell of a woman to be able to deal with my schedule. It’s easier to not get too serious. It keeps everyone involved from getting hurt or being disappointed.” I can hear a strange sadness in his voice.

Narrowing my eyes, I study him closer. “Did something happen, Max?”

He shook his head. “Nothing new. I know you all think I’m the ultimate playboy. But what I love to do isn’t conducive to what most people envision when they dream of getting married and starting a family. We all sacrifice to have things, and I’m no different.”

With the mask of happiness lowered, I see my brother in a new light. I place my hand on his arm. “We’ve all got someone out there waiting to find us or be found.”

“You still believe that?” he asks.

“I do. I’ve seen it too many times,” I say, thinking of Efia and Edgar. At her lowest, while she battled Alopecia, she met the love of her life.

“Maybe you’re right, kid.”

“Enough Hallmark moments. Let’s do a horror marathon the way we used to.”

“You order the pizza, I’ll get the popcorn and pick the movies?” he asks.

“Since you’re my guest, I’ll let you pick this time.”

“So generous,” he replies dryly.

I laugh, feeling more like myself than I have in weeks. We fall back into our familiar rhythm, and in the next thirty minutes, we’re parked on the couch watching Aliens as we stuff our face with the double pepperoni.

This is exactly what I need more of.

***

LEANING AGAINST THE wall, I place my hands on my lap as I wait for Detective Kunes to meet me in the lobby. One plus side to my nightmares is the additional information I’ve managed to glean. I want these guys off the street and behind a jail cell. They’ve turned my life upside down. The least I can do is try to return the favor in some way. I close my eyes and try to hold their features in my mind. It’s been almost a month since the robbery.

That’s been weeks of seeing their faces behind my eyelids every time I sleep. With each night the visions have become clearer and clearer, clinging to me as I wake instead of fading away like normal dreams. From the scruff on his chin to a distinctive scar that ran down the side of the leader’s face. I have no doubt I can describe them in great detail. However, I worry that they’ve been watching me.

It’s what made me take the long way to the station, park two streets up, and walk here. I’ve never seen anyone strange around my house, but I swear I feel eyes on me. I’m overly suspicious. It’s a natural response given what happened. Maybe if I tell myself that enough, I’ll begin to believe it. I stand as the tall, lean, white-haired man with a weathered face and electric blue eyes walks toward me.

I like Detective Kunes. He’s a straight shooter, who knows what he’s doing and seems to really care about his job. In his late forties, he still has plenty of passion and enough experience to get things done.

“Ms. Fleming.” He holds his hand out, and we shake.

“Detective Kunes.”

“Thanks for coming down today. If you want to follow me to my desk, we can talk about what you remembered.”

We head to his desk, and I sit down, placing my hands neatly in my lap. It feels like being in front of my high school principal.

He nods at me. “You say you remembered something that might be helpful.”

“Yes, when I first came in and gave a description I was in shock, and everything was muddled. I’ve been having dreams ... well, nightmares really, and I have a much better recall of their faces and some of their distinguishing marks. One had a scar that ran down the side of his face.” I gesture from my temple down toward my cheek.

“And you’re sure?” Detective Kunes asks as he straightens like a hunting dog who just caught a whiff of prey and is about to point.

“Yes. I’m positive. He was the leader with the gun. He had a hook-shaped nose, thick, bushy black brows, and small, inset eyes. I couldn’t tell the color. He had a hood that shadowed him, but I’m shorter, so I looked up into it. He had a goatee, but it was trashy and thin as if it was just growing in or he couldn’t pull off the look. He had thin lips.”

“Let me get you set up with a sketch artist. I want you to tell him everything you’re telling me, okay?”

“Sure.” Shifting in my seat as unease fills me, I struggle with the urge to leave. I grip the arms of the chair as fear sweeps over me. Once I help identify these men, there’s no going back. Right now, all they have is a vague and extremely generic description. Disgusted by the idea of not doing my part to keep Dallas safer, I smother my doubts in a blanket of empathy. Walking away is setting up someone else, maybe another woman who won’t have a person willing to stand up for her.

Kunes returns with the same petite brunette with large, doe-shaped eyes fringed with long lashes. Her full lips are curved up in a welcoming smile. My anxiety eases as I stand.

“You remember Missy?”

“I do. It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too, Quinn.”

“I’m going to have her take you to a room. She’ll let me know when you’re all finished.”

“Okay, thanks, Detective.” I follow Missy back to a room and instantly notice the silence. The police station is a hub of activity today. Phones are ringing, officers are pouring over case files, and actively booking and answering questions. Here I can really focus and think. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

“Whenever you’re ready, you can start,” Missy says.

I let the imagery come forward in my mind and relay every detail I can. It’s a purge. I’m a shaken bottle uncapped and exploding. I pour out every drop. Spent, I lean back in the chair an hour later, feeling like I just underwent an intense therapy session.

She turns the last sketch toward me. “Is this the man you see?”

Chills skitter down my spine. She got him on the button—right down to the evil in his eyes and his curled up lip.

“That’s him,” I whisper.

“You did great. This is going to be a huge help to the investigation. If they’re on the books, Detective Kunes will have no trouble finding them with these. I’m going to bring him in. I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you.”

Nodding my head, I take a sip of the water she got me somewhere between sketch one and sketch two. The door opens, and I look up at the detective. The wrinkles in his forehead and the sadness in his wizened eyes make me sit up straight.

“What’s wrong?”

He closes the door behind him. “I have good news and bad news.”

My stomach spasms. “Good news first.” I am not ready to be bogged down by more crap.

“I know who all of these men are.”

“And that’s bad why?” I ask.

“Because they’re high ranking members of the D.A.C., or Down Ass Crew.”

“The what?”

“An up and coming gang, looking to take over the established areas, absorb the weaker territories, and pit themselves against the stronger ones. The streets of Dallas are about to get bloody if we can’t crush this before the movement gets more momentum.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Will this help?”

“It could. It might be if we cut the head off the snake the body will die.”

“Am I in danger?” I ask, wondering if my fears were justified. Have I been followed?

“It’s possible. Have you noticed anyone suspicious around you?”

“No, and believe me, I’ve been looking.”

“Good. I won’t lie. This could be dangerous if we get them in here and take this to trial.”

“Can I ... can I think about this?” Everything’s changed. These men aren’t just some drugged out thieves. They’re higher ranking members in an organized crime ring. What if they already know I’m here?

“Sure. Once you decide, let me know?”

“Of course.” I stand. The white walls are shrinking around me, and the collar of my button down feels too tight. My body temperature spikes. I need to get out.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Thank you.”

I follow him through the crowded space, eyeballing every person we pass. Could they be here now? How many people does he control? I mumble a polite good-bye and speed walk the last yard to freedom. Bursting free of the stale environment, I inhale the fresh air. The sun chases the chill that settled into my core the moment he told me about D.A.C. My eyes dart back and forth as I scan the area. Everyone seems to be where they should be. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop my mind from running wild. Turning on my heel, I force myself not to run as I leave the station behind me.

***

OLLIE

As soon as I open the door, I grin at the mop of chocolate-brown hair that surrounds a cherubic face. Rolly glances up at me with those big, hazel-colored eyes so like his mother’s, and I can’t help but smile. This has been the longest time we’ve been apart since he was born, but I didn’t want him to see me when I was so weak. It would only worry him. I know he understood I was sick, but it does nothing to lessen my guilt over our separation.

“Daddy.” His squeal fills me with a joy I’ve been sorely lacking.

“Hey, buddy.” He tackles me around the legs, and I hold back a grunt.

“I missed you. Did you miss me? Are you better?” The rapid-fire questions earn my laugh.

“Of course I missed you, little dude. Daddy is a lot better but still healing, so we have to take it easy.” I pat his back as he pulls back and nods his head seriously. The kid has a level of empathy and understanding that awes and scares me. The world is a cruel place, and he feels more than most. I want to make sure we teach him balance, so he’s not overwhelmed, or hardening his heart to fit in.

I can feel Allie’s eyes boring a hole in my skull. I give her what I know she’s waiting for and turn my attention to her.

“Thank you for bringing him.” My goal is to keep things polite and relaxed. In time, we can be friends. Right now, thing are too raw and skewed for that to happen. We have a son together, so it’s imperative that we get along. I don’t want my son ground to pieces as we rub him raw with the friction that exists between us. I’ve lived that. I refuse to allow my son to experience it.

“Are you sure you’re up to a visit?” she asks, batting her lashes. Her voice is as sweet as sugar, but I know her game.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

Twirling a strand of her dark hair around a slender finger, she pouts. “You know he can be a real handful.”

“Like his old man, right?” I hold out my fist, and Rolly pounds it, making me laugh.

“Right.” Allie is seeking a weak spot to burrow into. She wants to steer this into a more romantic relationship.

“We need to make up for all the guy time we’ve missed out on, don’t we, buddy?”

“Yeah, Mom. It’s guy time. I love you, but I missed Daddy, a whole whole bunch. I want to play with him now, okay?” Rolly says.

I smirk. That’s my boy being a buffer without trying and smoothing his mother’s ruffled feathers. Allie’s isn’t used to not getting her own way. It’s going to be a rude awakening. The thirty-three-year-old daddy’s girl isn’t going to give up without testing me. It’s always been our way. She’s going to find out quickly that this time, I’m for real.

“Of course, baby boy. You and Daddy have a good time. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Yay.” Rolly hops up and down and then takes off like a jet toward his room as I walk her to the front door. Normally I’d keep him for a few days at a time, but I’m not recouped enough yet. Healing takes a lot more energy than one would think.

We go inside the entryway. “Are you positive the two of you will be okay? I can hang out if you need me to. I don’t mind.”

I bet you don’t.

“No, we’ll be good. I want to make not being around up to him.”

Placing a hand on my cheek, she smiles up at me. “That’s sweet.”

I cover her hand with my own, gently pull it away, and ball it up with a shake of my head. “I was serious in the hospital. Things are going to be different now. We’re not going to continue around in the loop.”

“Okay, Ollie.” The disbelief in her tone grates on my nerves, but it’s my fault. I kept playing the same role and taking the steps expecting things to change. Or maybe not acknowledging that it never would. Convenience is a slippery slope that leads to complacency and settling.

“See you in few.” I can’t help but be relieved when I close the door behind her. I turn on my heels and make my way to Rolly’s room. Sitting on his haunches, he’s building with colorful plastic blocks.

“Can I build, too?” I ask as I move closer and lower myself to the ground.

“Uh huh. I’m making a castle.”

I help him build another tower as I soak in the smell of his strawberry shampoo and innocence. Children are so precious because their world hasn’t been tainted by realities of the world. They don’t worry about paying bills or feel the sting that comes with the mean-spirited ways of others. When I look at children, I’m reminded of the best parts of humanity—the side we forget too often while we’re caught up in the business of surviving life.

“We need a moat, buddy.”

“A moat to surround the castle?” he asks as he peers up at me.

“Yep.” I’m proud he remembered. I begin to build up a circular wall.

“That’s cool, Daddy. We need to make a drawbridge, too.”

“Good thinking. How will we make it?”

“We can make the shape with our blocks, the brown ones. In all my dragon books the castle doors are always brown wood. We can pretend it looks like that.”

“Good observation, buddy. That means you pay attention well.”

The stacking of blocks and conversation with my son place me in a state of Zen. The sound of my doorbell pulls me from the designing.

“I’ll be bright back, little dude. You okay here?”

“Uh huh.” He nods his head, never looking up from the drawbridge he’s oh-so-carefully assembling. I ruffle his head and groan as I get to my feet.

One in the entryway, I peer out the trisected glass arch. Quinn? With her arms around her waist and her frame hunched, she appears subdued—a paler version of the woman I’ve interacted with. I quickly turn the lock and open the door.

“Quinn?”

She looks up at me with red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I hurriedly ask.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.”

I step back inside. She follows me, rubbing her arms like she has a chill despite the eighty-degree weather. I close the door.

“I went to the police station to update the sketches.”

“Yeah,” I say as the guilt hits me. I’ve put off going to the cops for an updated statement.

“He recognized them immediately.”

My stomach drops. “Why?”

“They’re high ranking members in D.A.C.”

“Is that a gang?”

“An upcoming one hell bent on proving they’re the baddest out there as they take over turf, and absorb smaller groups. Detective Kunes has a real hard-on for them. He thinks nabbing them now will take away the momentum they’re rapidly gaining.”

“And what do you think?” I inquire, seeing how shaken she is.

“Me? I don’t know what to think. They had my wallet. Did they ditch it in a garbage can somewhere, or do they know where I live? Have they been watching me?”

“Do you think they are?” I counter.

“I’m always looking over my shoulders these days. Have I seen anything out of the ordinary? Not yet, but I don’t feel safe either.”

“Daddy?”

She turns her head toward the sound.

“Just a second, buddy. I’m sorry, I have my son here.”

“No. I-I shouldn’t have just come over and barged in like that.”

“You didn’t. Look, I can tell it shook you up. I get it. I want to talk to you more about it, but I can’t right now. So why don’t you chill here with us?” I don’t want her out there like this alone.

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

I cherish my time with my son, but everything in me is screaming not to let her leave. “You’re not. Hey, buddy. Daddy’s new friend, Quinn, just stopped by. She’s really cool and knows all about monsters because she makes them.”

“She makes monsters?” He comes bounding out with his hair flying.

“Oh yeah, buddy. I might call her a monster expert. She does makeup for scary movies.”

He curls his fingers up and roars.

“Whoa. That is one excellent roar,” Quinn says, looking impressed.

He laughs. “Quinn, this is Roland. We call him Rolly. Rolly, this is Ms. Quinn. Can she play with us?”

Rolly tilts his head to the side. “I think it’d be okay. We’re building a castle, Ms. Quinn. Do you want to see it?”

“I’d love to.”

“Come on.” He beckons her with his hand, and I fight down a chuckle. The little dude has some serious swag. I’m going to have my hands full in a couple of years.

Twenty minutes later, we move from building to Finding Nemo and lunch. We set him up with a cup of juice on the couch and retreat to the kitchen with the open plan. I only bought a home because of Rolly, and I wanted an open plan that would allow me to see him at all times. I’m one of three boys. I know how quickly we can get into trouble.

Opening the fridge, I pull out the makings of a sandwich. “You want to fill me in on what’s happening with the cops?”

“They asked me if I’d be there to I.D. them if they brought them in, and potentially testify. I said I needed to think about it.”

“I think that’s a fair answer.”

“I think it’s a cowardly one,” she mumbles.

I frown. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to protect yourself. Do you have a roommate?”

She shakes her head.

“A woman living along should be careful. You’ve already done more than me. I haven’t even been to the station yet.”

“Because you’re smart.”

“Lazy and distracted,” I amend.

She smiles. “Thanks for letting me talk it out.”

“Anytime, and I meant every word.” I set the cheddar slices, bagged ham, and mayonnaise on the counter before I move to grab the bread.

“I don’t want to let fear win. They’ve taken enough. When do I make a stand? How do I live knowing me turning a blind eye could affect someone else down the line?”

“You can’t think like that. You don’t control what they do. In the end, the villain is the one responsible for his vile acts.”

“You make it sound so simple. Can I do anything to help?”

“You can cut up an apple. I have a slicer on the counter.”

“I’m on it.” She washes her hand in the sink, and we work together to complete his meal as we talk about lighter things. We’re almost done with Nemo when the doorbell rings a second time.

“That’s probably Mommy, buddy,” I say as I pause the movie.

“No. I want to stay here with you, Daddy.”

I kiss his head. “I know, little dude, and once Daddy is better this will get back to normal okay?”

He pouts. “When?”

“A few more weeks. Okay? Hang in there for me, pal.”

He sighs and stands from the couch, dragging his feet as we move to the door. I open the door for Allie.

“Why the long face, kiddo?”

“I wanted to finish Nemo,” he says with a deep sigh.

She rubs the back of his head. “Sorry, buddy, not today. Were you good for your dad?”

“Yes, and we got to hang out with Ms. Quinn who makes monsters for a living. I want to make monsters, Mama.”

“What?” She glances over my shoulder at Quinn who remained on the couch. “Guys day, huh?”

“It was a surprise visit,” I say with a shrug.

“Yeah, I bet,” she snaps.

“So can I?” Rolly asks again.

“Can you what?” Allie asks blankly.

“Make monsters when I grow up?”

She looks at me, lost.

“She’s a makeup artist.”

“Ahhh. Sure you can, baby. I think it’d be neat. Did you feed him?”

I ignore the urge to roll my eyes at her snippy tone. “Yes, he had lunch about an hour ago.”

“Good. Come on, Rolly. We’ll be in touch.”

I kiss his forehead and ruffle his hair. “I had so much fun with you today. We’re going to do it again real soon.”

“A few more weeks, Daddy?”

“That’s right, bud. Then dad will be as right as rain.”

It hurts my heart to see him so glum and defeated as they leave. Rolly is usually a pretty happy kid. He holds his mother’s hand loosely as he drags his feet. Her back is ramrod straight and anger radiates from her like heat from the sun. I’m going to be hearing about Quinn for days. She’s not used to me putting any woman who’s not my mother before her. She needs to get used to it.

I shut the door and return to the couch.

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to screw things up.”

I laugh. “Oh no, you don’t get to take credit for that. We’ve been on the ring of disaster for a while. Now we’re recovering from the atomic blast. It’s bound to be rocky.”

“Yet you sound happy about it.”

“Eventually the pain will stop. Things will settle, and we’ll be able to find our way. It’s better than living a lie. It’s like driving a vehicle that keeps breaking down, so you patch it up instead of replacing it. It’s a short-term fix, and I’m ready to think long-term.”

I sink down beside her. “Now you want to tell me more about what happened today?”

“I found who the robbers were and choked. If I was freaked out before, I’m terrified now.”

“Has anything off happened?”

“That’s tangible and not in my head? No. Not even a crank phone call.”

I sigh, reminded of my mini meltdown in the grocery store. “I wish I had advice to give, but it’d make me a hypocrite. All we can do is wait and see what happens, and I hate saying it. But it’s true. They’ve probably moved on to some other crime.”

“Are you going to tell them what you know?”

I don’t want to tell her it’s not as much as she does, except for the gunman. His face will be forever etched in my brain. I owe it to myself and everyone that cares about me to try to get the men who damn near put me in a coffin.

“Yeah. I’m going to head in tomorrow. I’m up for it. They took a statement in the hospital, but I was nowhere near as lucid as I could’ve been.” The first couple of days were a blur full of pain, faces I didn’t recognize, and the voices of my loved ones. The meds they had me on were potent.

“You had serious trauma. I think they understood.”

She sounds better. I glance at her. Her muscles are no longer tense, and her eyes have a sparkle to them again.

“How are you feeling?”

“A lot better since I’ve been here. Thank you for letting me hang out. I hope I didn’t ruin your time with your son.”

“Nah, you enhanced it. You have a little fan I think.”

She laughs. “Once you told him I made monsters I think he was sold.”

I nod my head in agreement. “True. So, we finishing Nemo, or what?” I grab the remote.

“I’m always down for a good animated flick.” She flashes me a mischevious smile, and I hit play as I pretend to relax on the couch. She needs the downtime. Her news has my mind racing. This complicates thing. It feeds my paranoia and lends validity to my feelings of being watched and followed. My chest tightens and a slow, creeping fear invades me. I need to get to the station and find out how I can protect myself and my family. I glance at Quinn out of the corner of my eye. Somehow, she’s made her way into my tight circle of people who matter.

***

I HAVEN’T SEEN THE inside of a police station since I was in my early thirties, and me and my crew got hauled in for disorderly conduct after a brawl broke out at a local watering hole in Australia. That was my wake-up call. At thirty-two, I was no longer a young man, I missed my family, and my best friend was about to have triplets and start up a business I’d invested heavily in. I wanted to go home. So I did. I made that tour my last. I was never going to be a Tony Hawk, but I held my own in the middle ground and saw a lot of the world. It was good while it lasted.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I make my way to the front desk.

“Can help you, sir?” the tall, blonde officer with blue-gray eye asks.

“Yeah, I’m here to see Detective Kunes.”

“Can I get your name?”

“Sure, Oliver Hemnway.”

“Is the detective expecting you?”

“Um, no. He told me to come by about a case after I got out of the hospital.”

“Okay, I’ll let him know you’re here. You can take a seat over there.” She gestures toward the chairs lined up against the wall.

Taking a seat in the uncomfortable, black torture devices, I shift my weight in my seat and guess why the people around me are here.

“Mr. Hemnway.”

I look up at the older man with sharp blue eyes and gray hair slowly turning white.

“Detective Kunes.” I rise, and we shake hands.

“I have to say, you look much better than you did the day I last spoke with you.”

“I honestly don’t remember it very well.” I rub the back of my neck.

“I’m not surprised. They had you dosed pretty well. If you want to come back to my office, we can talk.”

“Yeah, of course.”

I follow him back to a row of desks and take a seat.

“Did you remember anything new about that night?”

“I have a very clear description of the man who shot me.”

“I bet you do.” He picks up a pen and a pad. “You talk, and I’ll write.”

After taking a deep breath, I describe the man I see in too many faces these days. When I’m done, it’s like a purge. I lean back against the seat as if I’ve eaten a full course meal at a fancy restaurant.

“Do you think you could recognize him if I showed you a photo?”

“I’m one-hundred percent sure I could.”

He pulls a binder from his drawer, sets it down, and rustles through a few pages before he turns the book to face me. Humming sounds in my ears and the world recedes. My vision narrows to the man with the snarl. My stomach roils and a ghost pain flares in my chest.

“That’s him,” I rasp, and swallow to moisten my dry mouth.

“Could you pick him out in a lineup?”

“Shit yes, I could.”

“I have to tell you, Mr. Hemnway, this man is no average criminal. He’s the leader of the D.A.C. Are you willing to stand up against him if we take this to trial?”

“Yes.” The answer is out before I can think about it. I have to do this for me. If I punk out, I’ll never be able to look at myself in the mirror again.

He nods. “I think we might have enough here to bring him in and keep him. I’ll get to work on this. Expect to be hearing from me, Mr. Hemnway.”

“I look forward to it, Detective.”

Burying my head in the sand when this man almost took my life isn’t an option.