Every author experiences that moment when their creation transforms from a marionette to a real boy, and now you are stuck feeding him, teaching him how to wipe himself, and putting money aside for college. But no one ever told me the upstart would invade my dreams and visit other characters while I sleep. Tell me that has happened to you, and I will stop taking NyQuil PM and just try to enjoy it.

I will admit I was grateful the first time he came up with a plot or scene twist. It was brilliant. Why should I do all the work, right? Of course, killing off one of my key secondaries before I had even gotten to know him well enough to call him a “darling” did mess me up a bit. But I bowed to his creativity and welcomed him as an advisor. (I wasn’t ready to assign him co-author credit.)

Then this scene idea pops into my head. What if… All great ideas begin with that. What if he goes to visit his dead lover’s twin sister? As my head hit the pillow, after my second trip to the bathroom that night, I told myself I should make a mental note, or better, a written note of my idea before I drift off.

By the time my bladder alarm went off again, about two hours later, he had done it. He had visited the ex-sister-in-law and they had an entire conversation without me.

What?

Of course I was angry. He doesn’t write things down. If he’s going to go off on his own and build a scene, the least he could do is record it for me. If I like it, I’ll think about giving him credit. Maybe.

Come on, Man. What are you doing to me?

This writing stuff is hard at times, but it is also quite fun when you get on a roll and keep going like I am doing now.

So, morning comes and over coffee, we talk about this, he and I. I tell him he has to help me the way he took over when he killed Motorcycle Mike. I liked Mike. I had a whole backstory ready for him, and wham, he’s gone. Yes, it still hurts, so help me here, I tell him.

He sips his coffee and smiles.

I finish my coffee and start a new chapter. We agree on one thing. He’s going to visit the sister-in-law. Easy-peasy?

No. On the train, these guys get on and give him a hard time. Does he sit there and ignore them? Of course not. I even send the conductor to break up whatever might happen, but, no. He has to engage.

What should be a simple train ride followed by a subway transfer to Greenwich Village winds up with him getting off the train before Grand Central, the terminus.

But, I’m getting smarter. I make him get back on the train in the next car, leaving the conductor to deal with the mess. He’s back on track, literally.

This is harder than it should be. I complain, but no one seems to care.

Finally, we get to the apartment building where she lives. I look at him. Well? What happened in the dream?

It was your dream, he tells me. He’s gambling with me. He knows how many words I have so far. We’re not even halfway there.

I don’t want another cup of coffee, but I leave to make myself one, just to let him stew for a while or do whatever characters do when you leave them alone and threaten not to come back. I cut a small personal crumb cake into what I think are six equally sized pieces and grab one while waiting for the coffee. It is then that I notice they aren’t equally sized. This is why I don’t remember my dreams.

Anyway, the coffee is hot and foamy and it does a good job washing down the coffee crumb cake, so I am back, ready to get to work.

When I meet up with him, he is chatting with the doorman who he knows from when he used to live here. It would be nice if he shared these tidbits with me before bringing them up in conversations.

Now, in my version of what happens next, I had decided to make this entire trip a waste of time, when it comes to the plot, but he had a different plan, once again.

I grab another piece of crumb cake. It is really good, especially with the coffee which is very bold. So, the sugar from the cake, with the half-and-half in the coffee make the entire experience almost worth the effort. Almost.

When I get back to the scene, already in progress, she is telling him that her mom, who blames him for what happened to her son, his lover, the brother of the ex-sister-in-law twin, is dying.

I pull him aside and we go out into the hall to talk. If you had filled me in on any of this, I could have prepared the reader, and myself, for this so that it has more of an emotional impact, which it doesn’t and it is all his fault.

That felt better.

He gives me the finger and goes back inside.

I can’t leave him on his own too long, because God knows what he’s going to do next, and I’m starting to pull my hair out. The only thing that is keeping me from looking like my grandfather is that I have more hair than he did at my age, so let me at least keep that.

At the end of the day, I am exhausted. I know I need to rest. A good seven or more hours of uninterrupted sleep each night would be a gift, and it might help me have the strength to keep my characters in check. But I am torn. Every book I read tells me I should encourage such behavior, and I was all for it when it happened during the day, while we were working together to move this story along, but at night? In my dreams? That’s a twist I can do without.

Readers may recognize the characters and scenes from my serial thriller, Jigsaw Man. I wrote this as a fun exercise while I was working on the episodes in that psychological thriller. It is available on Amazon Kindle, or you can read it here on my Substack account.

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Jigsaw Man is now an ebook on Amazon, and you can purchase it for $0.99 here.

Or you can read all the episodes on Substack, where you have the option to listen to them if you can put up with my voice.

Jigsaw Man has been described as:

“The kind of story that doesn’t just entertain it unsettles, lingers, rearranges something quietly inside you.”

It is the haunting story of a man who, racked with grief over the loss of his spouse, shunned by family and friends, unemployed and invisible, lets his acute talent for observation driven by his curiosity, propel him into a puzzling series of events that makes him question his very prpose in life.

“But what truly stuck with me wasn’t just the twists or the clever unraveling of the puzzle, it was the feel of it all. The emotional static. The way you gave loneliness a texture. The way silence had weight. Jigsaw Man isn’t just a mystery, it's a meditation. On guilt. On trauma. On the fragile thread between watching life and re-entering it.”

If you have read it, I would love your thoughts and comments, because I am about to start working on what comes next for him. If you haven’t read it, or had trouble keeping up with the daily posts and have lost your way, I have compiled an index and a starting point. You can click here, or to go to a specific episode, see the link below.

Jigsaw Man Index

If you haven’t read it on Substack, you can start here.

Jigsaw Man - Episode 1

Jigsaw Man - Episode 2 Jigsaw Man - Episode 3

Jigsaw Man - Episode 4 Jigsaw Man - Episode 5

Jigsaw Man - Episode 6 Jigsaw Man - Episode 7

Jigsaw Man - Episode 8 Jigsaw Man - Episode 9

Jigsaw Man - Episode 10 Jigsaw Man - Episode 11

Jigsaw Man - Episode 12 Jigsaw Man - Episode 13

Jigsaw Man - Episode 14 Jigsaw Man - Episode 15

Jigsaw Man - Episode 16 Jigsaw Man - Episode 17

Jigsaw Man - Episode 18 Jigsaw Man - Episode 19

Jigsaw Man - Episode 20 Jigsaw Man - Episode 21

Jigsaw Man - Episode 22 Jigsaw Man - Episode 23

Jigsaw Man - Episode 24 Jigsaw Man - Episode 25

Jigsaw Man - Episode 26 Jigsaw Man - Episode 27

Jigsaw Man - Episode 28 Jigsaw Man - Episode 29

Jigsaw Man - Episode 30 Jigsaw Man - Episode 31

Jigsaw Man - Episode 32 Jigsaw Man - Episode 33

Jigsaw Man - Episode 34 Jigsaw Man - Episode 35

Jigsaw Man - Episode 36 Jigsaw Man - Episode 37

Jigsaw Man - Episode 38 Jigsaw Man - Episode 39

Jigsaw Man - Episode 40 Jigsaw Man - Episode 41

Jigsaw Man - Episode 42 Jigsaw Man - Episode 43

Jigsaw Man - Episode 44 Jigsaw Man - Episode 45

Jigsaw Man - Episode 46 Jigsaw Man - Episode 47

Jigsaw Man - Episode 48 Jigsaw Man - Episode 49

Jigsaw Man - Episode 50 Jigsaw Man - Episode 51

Jigsaw Man - Episode 52 Jigsaw Man - Episode 53

Jigsaw Man - Episode 54 Jigsaw Man - Episode 55

Jigsaw Man - Episode 56 Jigsaw Man - Episode 57

Jigsaw Man - Episode 58 Jigsaw Man - Episode 59

Jigsaw Man - Episode 60 Jigsaw Man - Episode 61

Jigsaw Man - Episode 62 Jigsaw Man - Episode 63

Jigsaw Man - Episode 64 Jigsaw Man - Episode 65

Jigsaw Man - Episode 66 Jigsaw Man - Episode 67

Jigsaw Man - Episode 68 Jigsaw Man - Episode 69

Jigsaw Man - Episode 70 Jigsaw Man - Episode 71

Jigsaw Man - Episode 72 Jigsaw Man - Episode 73

Jigsaw Man - Episode 74 Jigsaw Man - Episode 75

Jigsaw Man - Episode 76 Jigsaw Man - Episode 77

Jigsaw Man - Episode 78 Jigsaw Man - Episode 79

Jigsaw Man - Episode 80 Jigsaw Man - Episode 81

Jigsaw Man - Episode 82 Jigsaw Man - Episode 83

Jigsaw Man - Episode 84 Jigsaw Man - Episode 85

Jigsaw Man - Episode 86 Jigsaw Man - Episode 87

Jigsaw Man - Episode 88 Jigsaw Man - Episode 89

Jigsaw Man - Episode 90 Jigsaw Man - Episode 91

Jigsaw Man - Episode 92 Jigsaw Man - Episode 93

Jigsaw Man - Episode 94 Jigsaw Man - Episode 95

Jigsaw Man - Episode 96 Jigsaw Man - Episode 97

Jigsaw Man - Episode 98 Jigsaw Man - Episode 99

Jigsaw Man - Episode 100 Jigsaw Man - Episode 101

Jigsaw Man - Episode 102 Jigsaw Man - Episode 103

Jigsaw Man - Episode 104 Jigsaw Man - Episode 105

Jigsaw Man - Episode 106 Jigsaw Man - Episode 107

Jigsaw Man - Episode 108 Jigsaw Man - Episode 109

Jigsaw Man - Episode 110 Jigsaw Man - Episode 111

Jigsaw Man - Episode 112 Jigsaw Man - Episode 113

Jigsaw Man - Episode 114 Jigsaw Man - Episode 115

Jigsaw Man - Episode 116 Jigsaw Man - Episode 117

Jigsaw Man - Episode 118 Jigsaw Man - Episode 119

Jigsaw Man - Episode 120 Jigsaw Man - Episode 121

Jigsaw Man - Episode 122 Jigsaw Man - Episode 123

Jigsaw Man - Episode 124 Jigsaw Man - Episode 125

Jigsaw Man - Episode 126 Jigsaw Man - Episode 127

Jigsaw Man - Episode 128 Jigsaw Man - Episode 129

Jigsaw Man - Episode 130 Jigsaw Man - Episode 131

Jigsaw Man - Episode 132 Jigsaw Man - Episode 133

Jigsaw Man - Episode 134 Jigsaw Man - Episode 135

Jigsaw Man - Episode 136 Jigsaw Man - Episode 137

Jigsaw Man - Episode 138 Jigsaw Man - Episode 139

Jigsaw Man - Episode 140 Jigsaw Man - Episode 141

Jigsaw Man - Episode 142 Jigsaw Man - Episode 143

Jigsaw Man - Episode 144 Jigsaw Man - Episode 145

Jigsaw Man - Episode 146

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“Sleep well?

“How long?”

“A month.”

“No way.” I feel the hairs of my beard pull under a new bandage.

“No, the evening and the morning, it is the next day.”

“Since when do you quote Scripture?”

She walks around the bed and I notice Gabriel standing in the doorway.

“Who are you?”

“Watchman,” he says.

“You did good. You can be my backup anytime.”

“Or you mine?”

I try to smile, but everything feels like it’s cracking. “Did you get the coins?”

He nods.

“Answer me, you little shit.”

“I gave them to the families of the fallen. Jake helped me.”

“Jake?”

He nods again.

Zelda puts a newspaper on the sheet.

“They still make those?” I ask. “what’s it say? I don’t know where my eyes are under this hornet’s nest of gauze.”

She picks up the paper and folds it like the Sunday Times, so only one column is visible. I wait.

“United States Coast Guard reports that they have only been able to find one survivor, and no other casualties from the helicopter crash near Fire Island, New York. The young girl, about high school age, was found floating not far from where the chopper went down. She is presumed to be the only survivor, however, she has not been able to provide her identity. She is being transported to Sinai Medical Center for observation.”

Sally. The girl with the magic memory.

“You know what that means,” says Red as she enters, followed by the Old Man, Gabriel and a freshly bandaged Flag.

“Yeah,” I say. “This ain’t over.”

I pull her to the deep end, struggling to keep my head above the water. Yes, Danielle, I do know how to swim, I just don’t do it, for reasons like this.

I lean her against the pool ladder, hooking her arms around the pipes, while I climb over her onto the patio and brush away the debris.

“EZ!”

I recognize that shout. It is Gabriel. I can see his chest and head, but not his body. He is at the wall from the garage.

“I have a ladder. Come.”

Easy for you to say.

“I need help.”

I watch the helicopter hover for a moment over the Sound. If I had the binoculars, I could see what was happening. Maybe Danielle is looking to see if her little explosion did the job. I raise my arm and give her the finger, assuming she is looking. Something drops from her hands, and she waves back. I bet it’s the knife.

Gabriel climbs up and runs to grab Red, lifting her over his shoulder like she is a sack of straw. “Come.”

I follow him to the ladder, and he signals for me to go first so that he can lower her to me. I wish I had thought of that. How would I know he is so strong? But then again, he was a Marine. So was I, but, hell, look at me now.

Sirens.

They respond quickly in this part of town. Zelda wouldn’t have called an ambulance, given Flag has been shot. They should be on their way to some safe place. I wish I knew where. Maybe Red’s phone will tell us, assuming it is still working after that bath we both took.

It would be nice if I could determine which pain I am feeling is from which disastrous escape I made since my last meal.

Now for the fun part. The McLaren is a two-seater and tight at that. “We can’t use this car for the three of us.”

“Four,” says Gabriel.

I look in the car and Barclay is in the passenger seat.

“You get him to an animal hospital, now.” I reach into my pocket and hand him a wet wad of money, the last of the stash Jenna gave me.

“What about you and her?”

The siren is getting closer.

“I’ve got this.”

He fist bumps me and gets in the car. How the hell did he save Barclay from the blast? There is something about him that has me equally worried and impressed.

Red starts to come around, and starts punching me.

“Woah, hold on there.”

“Where is she?”

“Gone.” I point to the sky. “Airlifted.”

“Fuckin’ Bitch.”

“Attitude.”

She rubs her neck. There is a red bruise developing.

“She fuckin’ stabs me and drags me by the throat, with a God-damned machete hanging over me.”

“That’s the knife that killed Paul. Barclay, the dog, could identify it, so he and Rolf were shot. He managed to bite Dennis in the leg though, just like he did when Dennis killed Paul. We have evidence if we can ever find them and bring them to trial.”

“Not our job, Rambo.”

“That name doesn’t apply to me. Flag, maybe. You know, the big guy. She shot him.”

She jumps up and poises for a fight. “And Zelda?”

“I think she’s okay.”

“What now?” She wrings out her rainbow hair on my shorts.

“Hey!”

“You’re wet anyway.”

“So are you.”

“You down there. Anybody hurt?” A firefighter leans over the wall while sprays of water soak the burning structure.

“Yeah. I have a severely bruised ego.”

Red slaps my arm, sending lightning bolts of pain through my frazzled nerves.

Next

Where are you? I am in the house.

Silence

That’s not good. I draw my weapon and try to hold it steady while climbing. I could use another set of arms and legs. My stomach growls loud enough for me to hear it. That’s not good. My head is swimming with visions of Danielle holding Red by the hair with a knife to her throat, that knife, the one that killed Paul.

As I come around the corner at the kitchen, and I can see out the door to the Old Man with Celia. Flag must be in the house somewhere. Where’s Zelda?

She is so short, that when I pass the counter, she is right there, holding a semi-automatic that is almost her size.

She points to a door at the end of a hall I hadn’t noticed before. I start that way, but she signals me to stop and wait. Flag sticks his head out and waves us forward.

I don’t like the idea of the three of us going up to the roof the same way. I move toward the wall of glass and push a button to slide it open completely. With access to the pool and outdoor patio, I have a better line of sight. I whisper my intentions, and we swap weapons. I know what that means. I’m now the shooter. Flag is the point man. Zelda is backup. Let’s hope we don’t need her.

What about Red?

I grab the binoculars from the table and walk outside, staying close. I hear the blades swooshing again, this time getting close. Where is it coming from?

I walk along the wall to the side of the pool and then stay close to the shrubs along the wall bordering the property to find a spot where I can see if someone is on the roof.

Not having been up there, I don’t know what to expect, and I am not surprised to find a penthouse with a flat roof. Perfect for landing a helicopter, I presume. It sure is nice to have so much money.

Another text from Red.

You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.

Fuck. Danielle.

She has Red and her phone, possibly a weapon as well, along with the knife. I can’t forget the knife. It is evidence. Where will she dump that? She didn’t have it stowed on the yacht. Then it could have been found. I raise the binoculars and look out. There is a super yacht out there in the Sound. She won’t go there. No International Waters here in the Sound. That may be an interested observer of our clever operator.

You didn’t tell me your hubby was going to kill your dogs, or I would have taken them.

I am gambling that she doesn’t know that was Dennis’ plan. What kind of marriage do these two have?

If I can keep her engaged, Flag can come up behind her. I step into view, training my sight on the penthouse.

You look different? Plastic surgery?

Something like that.

The swooshing gets closer, but I still can’t see the helicopter. It must be coming in low. I hear what sounds like gunshots.

Stupid move, Zeke, my friend.

She never called me that before. She must have searched Red’s texts. So, where is Red? And who did she shoot?

Through the glass wall, I see Flag and Zelda backing out of the building. Flag is slouched over and Zelda is trying to guide him.

Good Shot, Danny.

Silence. I need to get up there.

My phone buzzes again.

I’m back. Sally on the chopper.

Probably Dennis and Pops, too. And here they come to pick up Momma. I text her again.

Say Hi to your hubby for me.

She’s gone dark. No more texts. Time to move.

There should be a fire escape from the roof, given that there is only one way up. I search along the wall but don’t find anything, only a trellis overgrown with ivy.

The helicopter is getting closer.

I slip the strap of the rifle over my shoulder and grab the trellis with both hands, giving a good pull. It comes away slightly, and I look around it. Bingo. There is a metal ladder, the kind that you pull down and climb straight up. Can I make it up in time?

The swooshing of the blades against the air creates a rhythmic thwopping sound that hurts my ears. It is landing, but it won’t stay long. My God-damned ankle!

I reach for the top rung and pull my head up enough to see Danielle push Red onto the roof. I call out to her but the helicopter drowns me out. I manage to pull myself up and train my sight on Danielle.

She raises her hand showing all five fingers, and then starts to lower one finger at a time, counting down.

I run to Red and shake her. She’s groggy. Drugged?

“Come on. She’s going to blow us up.”

Four.

I drag Red to the ladder and I step down onto it. She should be light enough for me to carry, but it has been decades since my military days.

Three.

She groans, and I shake her hard.

“Come on, wake up!”

Another moan, but her eyes open.

Two.

We’re not going to make it. I grab her by the collar and pull her as hard as I can, sending both of us off the ladder onto the trellis, and into the pool.

One.

Next

This is one fucked up game their all playing, and now the Judge and Sally are on the run. Where to? What helicopter is going to sweep down and take them off to a waiting luxury yacht?

Fuck.

“Gabriel, we have to get to the McGill home. There is a road that leads to the garage. We’ll take that.”

“Which way?”

“Give me your phone. I’ll put the address in GPS.”

I set it up to do turn-by-turn directions, and leave it on the dash before Gabriel. While the sultry female voice is giving him guidance, I text Red again.

The Judge and Sally are headed your way. Keep an eye out for a helicopter. I believe there is a landing pad on the roof.

She has to see that and tell Zelda. Too late, I can hear the blades swooshing in the distance as we approach the road to the garage. Just as we turn onto it, a red Lamborghini approaches, its tires kicking up dirt and grass from the shoulder of the road. There is barely enough room for it to pass. I reach for the wheel, but Gabriel jerks it right, sending us into the hedges and rock wall.

I turn but too late to see who was driving.

“Go after that car.”

Gabriel tries to backup, but the car won’t move. I kick open the door and look. The fender has cut into the tire. I look up to the heavens and hold back the curse I want to scream.

“There’s another car in there. Follow me.”

I am in no shape to run up a hill.

“Gabriel, run ahead, don’t go inside until I get to you, but call me to let me know what you see. There should be a car in the garage, a McLaren Spyder.”

I use the stone wall as a crutch, leaning as much as possible to ease the pain in my ankle and knees. That drop from the overhang was enough to age me ten years, if not more.

I can hear commotion up at the front entrance. Someone is yelling. I grab my phone.

No Judge. Dennis shot the dogs. Celia is screaming. Chasing Danielle.

Damn it, Red.

I am about to text her back when the phone rings.

“Dogs shot. Car here.”

“Gabriel, are the dogs dead?” Funny what you focus on in a crisis. I’m burned, in pain, can hardly walk, and I’m worried about the dogs.”

“One is still alive.”

One is dead. Barclay is the only link to Dennis. He can’t die.

My plan was to get the Spyder and chase after the Lamborghini, but when I enter the garage, I drop to my knees beside Barclay. There is blood in his mouth, but I don’t think it is his. I pet and comfort him, and he licks my hand. His tail moves slightly. Beside his head is a bloody piece of clothing. It looks like khaki. Dennis’ pants?

“You did it, boy,” I say, caressing his head.

“Gabriel, find me something to put this in, a plastic bag would do.

“Like the bicycle chain?”

“Yeah, like that.” His speech is getting clearer. He hands me an empty cardboard box and I scoop up the cloth in it. “Thanks.”

I don’t want to leave Barclay, but I need to know what is happening upstairs. I point to the Spyder. “Check to see if the key fob is in that car.”

Gabriel nods. That’s becoming his favorite method of communication.

“Can you drive it without crashing it?”

Another nod. God, I hope so.

“Get in, back it out, and head down the road to see if you can find the Lamborghini. Don’t race.”

“Where to?”

I think for a moment. Where to?

“The park. Near the monument.”

He gives me a strange look.

“I will meet you there. Don’t kill anyone.”

Another nod.

Jesus, we’re doomed.

Next

I am blown away by the interest in Jigsaw Man, the serial posted here about a man who wants to end it all after his life turns to sh*t, but he gets caught up in a murder mistery instead. I won’t give too much away in case you haven’t started reading yet. The daily serial ends on July 11, 2025, but there may be something in the works for those interested in more.

To view a list of all episodes and search for the one you want, click here.

If you haven’t read it on Substack, you can start here.

And if you want to buy the ebook for only $.99, you can click here.

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I release my grip on Pop to reach behind me for my gun, and at that instant, Pops twists free from my other arm, turns, pushes me down onto the stairs and runs to the elevator. Not what I would expect from a sick old man.

By the time I get there, the door is closed and they are descending. I run to the stairs and call down for Gabriel but get no response. I try calling him while taking the steps as quickly as my bad ankle will allow. I can hear his phone ringing as I reach the fifth floor, but he isn’t answering. So, he must be able to hear me.

“Gabriel, Sergeant, hold the angel and her grandfather in the elevator until I get there.”

I hope he heard me.

Fourth floor.

I hear the elevator door open. Is it on the main floor, or did they stop before it? What would I have done.

Third floor.

I hear the elevator doors close. Someone has to close them. It takes a bit of time. It must be on the second floor. Do I look for them there? There has to be another staircase. Gabriel has the back covered.

I leave the stairs on the second floor and walk to the freight elevator. Would they have split up, one up here and one in the elevator going down? That’s what I would have done. Who would go and who would stay?

I can’t help thinking as I take the hallways along the perimeter of the building.

If Pops and Sally were supposed to be on that yacht, wouldn’t the cartel think they are dead? That was never the plan, was it?

I stop and listen. I can hear the freight elevator stop on the ground floor. I think that is where it is. I don’t hear it open. Is it empty? Where’s Gabriel?

I pull out my phone and check. No texts.

A door opens and closes up ahead, not within sight. It must be around the corner, at the front of the building. Remember, what does the building look like from the front?

I could use Sally’s memory for this.

There is an overhang over the front doors. Could it be accessible from here? I can’t run. Everything hurts and pulls, making me dizzy. Gabriel, where are you?

As I turn the corner, I spot a figure through the glass door. It is Pops. He’s standing on the platform over the front doors. The door is one that locks when closed, so once you go out, you can’t come back in that way. Why would anyone go out there?

The wind lifts the edge of a large banner, and that one corner flaps in the wind. That’s it. They hang banners over the doors. There must be hooks along the edge for grommets. Pops bends down and grabs the flapping corner, lifting the banner from its hook. I open the door, brace it with one foot so it doesn’t close, and raise my weapon.

“Don’t -”

Before I can finish, he rolls off the edge, holding the banner, causing each of the grommets to pop as his weight pulls him down. This is no sick old man. I couldn’t have done that and I’m a hell of a lot younger.

I let the door go and run to the edge.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gabriel holding Sally. He is pointing his gun at Pops.

“No, Gabriel.”

I can’t go back in through the door, so I have no choice but to lower myself down, hang from the edge, and drop into the bushes near the entrance. Gabriel runs to me, allowing Sally to slip away and run to her grandfather.

If my ankle was bad before, it is super bad now. I grab Gabriel by the arm and pull him close. “Let them go. You did good. They are free.”

“You need help.”

“You’re damn straight,” I say. “Where did you put the coins?”

He points to the dome.

“Go get them. Bring them to your grandmother’s house and stay there until I call you. Can you do that for me?”

He nods.

I’m not feeling too good about this, but I don’t have many options. He looks at my face and bows his head.

“I’m fine, Gabe. Don’t worry about me.” I look at the weapon in his hand. “Weapons cold, Sarge.”

He holsters it and covers it with his hoodie.

“Help me up. I need to get a ride.”

He hands me a key fob.

“What’s this?”

He points to a pickup truck in the parking lot. I recognize it, but don’t understand. It belonged to the two construction guys. I get close enough to confirm the plate is the same, AG24545.

“Mason and Lopez had this truck. How did you get it?”

“They dumped it. Come.”

I limp to the truck and look in the bed.

“Is that Sally’s bike?”

Gabriel nods again.

“Get in. You’re staying with me.”

He pulls the keys away from me. “I got this.”

“Okay. You’ve got this. Follow my directions.”

Next

“He’s very weak,” says Sally, holding his hand.

“I bet he’s stronger than you think.” I am betting on that. We have to get out of here, and the only way down is the spiral staircase.

“Sergeant, I need your assistance here.” It’s a shot. I’m betting that Gabriel will do whatever he is ordered to do.

He reaches for his gun.

“Weapons cold. Stow your sidearm.”

He hesitates.

“That’s an order, Sergeant.” I rely on my cop voice to convey authority.

He holsters his weapon and scrambles to my side. It worked.

“I need you to stand before us and back down the stairs, ready to catch Pops, here, if he slips or is too weak to hold on. You got that?”

Gabriel nods. Not the military response I was hoping for, but it will have to do.

“He can’t make it down those stairs,” says Sally.

“He made it up, didn’t he?”

She quiets down.

“You can help, too. You go down before us and call for the freight elevator.” I am hoping the janitor stopped caring about that when it returned to him.

As Sally makes her way down, I lean close to the Judge’s ear. “You know they’re planning on killing off your family so they can’t take over your business, right?”

Another gamble. I am hoping the pieces fell into the right places. If Dennis and Paul are related to Pops, here, this entire mess I fell into was a family feud. Dennis and Danielle plotted to take over the business, eliminating Paul, and setting up Pops and Sally to take the fall for trying to retire with the gold and money.

“I need to talk to Zelda.” His eyes are cold, not from near death but from years, decades of cold-blooded business dealings.

“I’m taking you to her now. Unless you need medical attention, like Sally said.”

“Zelda. Now.”

When Sally gets to the bottom, Gabriel, starts walking down, facing us. There really isn’t room for two people on the steps at the same time, but this is not much different from the bell tower in the church.

“Gabe, one step at a time.” I help Pops onto the first step, facing me, so I can hold onto his arms. He can’t grab me without pulling off layers of skin and blisters, so I have to hold him for the first few steps, leaning into the stairwell, while maneuvering my feet onto the first step.

EZ does it.

This man is a lot stronger than Sally made him out to be. I feel him pulling back as I guide him down. I need Gabriel to see that this old, feeble man is capable of making a run for it when we get to the landing.

“Sally, do you have the freight elevator?”

“Yes.”

“Gabriel, take point. Seal the rabbit hole.”

Gabriel continues down the stairs. He should take the stairs down to the bottom and stand ready in case Pops and Sally try to bolt.

Pops has figured out what I am doing, so he suddenly becomes heavy and less cooperative. I lean close and whisper, “My success does not depend on your survival, Pops. Keep that in mind.”

He turns and spits. You’re going to regret that.

Next

I should treat this like a domestic disturbance, even though I think I know Gabriel, or maybe because I do. He’s become a bit of a live wire. I’ve seen it before, this shift from the denial or numbing stage to a more intrusive stage where he could be reliving past traumas and is having trouble discerning what is real and what is his mind reliving what he has been through. He has substituted Sally and her grandfather for the soldiers he feels he failed to save, and now he wants to save them at any cost. I know he does not see me as an enemy, since he led me here. Or maybe I’m wrong and he led me here because he sees me as the enemy.

“Gabriel.” I shout up the spiral staircase to the dome. There is only one way up and one way down, so, if he is up there, he has to come this way to leave.

As I reach for the rail, my phone buzzes. Red again. Celia is taking the dogs for a walk. The house is unlocked. Red is going in.

I text her back, but there is no response. I don’t need this now.

Something hits me on the head and then bounces off the step with a ping. It’s a coin. He’s doing it again, offering coins to the dead. Who this time?

“Gabriel, I know you’re up there. I need to talk with you about the angel and her granddad.”

“He’s not well,” shouts a different voice. Sally?

“Who is not well, your granddad?”

I hear shuffling and then silence. Gabriel has quieted her. I need to keep talking to him as I take the steps one at a time.

“Gabriel, do you know who shot at you?”

Another step.

“Remember, at the monument to the fallen?”

Two more steps. Another coin hits the step beside my foot. He can see me, but I can’t see him.

“It was Jack who shot at you. Do you know why Jack would do that?”

Step. Silence. Step.

Click.

I know that sound. I’m in his line of fire. I can’t avoid a shot, not at this range. There are only a dozen steps to go.

Ping. Another coin.

“You can’t get to them, can you, Sergeant?”

Silence.

“Where are they?”

Step.

I hear something, a deep guttural sound from his throat.

“Can you see them?”

Step.

“They are right here,” he says, sounding desperate.

I hear the sound of shoes scuffling. He’s moving, and maybe he’s moving his captives.

Step.

The top of my head is about to emerge. I am a sitting duck now. He can finish me if he wants to.

“Sergeant, can you open the gate and let them in?”

I raise my weapon close to my chest, the barrel near the opening of the stairwell.

“I can’t get to them,” he says, sounding frightened. I have put him back at the airport at the time of the explosion. I can’t have him relive that. I believe he has to resolve the situation in order to heal, but what the fuck do I know?

A shot rings out, glass crashes to the floor, and hot air blows across the room. I climb the last few steps, spot Sally and her grandfather huddled against the circular wall, and run to Gabriel, grabbing his gun, and pulling him to my chest to give him the hardest bear hug I can manage.

“You’re fine, Sergeant. You did it. You opened the gate, and they are safe.”

After a long silence, he returns the embrace, and I can feel his muscles relax, allowing me to lower him to the floor.

“My grandfather needs help,” says Sally.

“We all do, child.”

I dial Red, but she doesn’t answer. I don’t have Zelda’s number, and I don’t have the tracker to see where they are. I’m on my own. I make sure Gabriel doesn’t have any other weapons and I leave him to check out the grandfather.

“You’re the guy in the diner,” she says.

“I’m surprised you recognized me.”

“I have a gift, or maybe it is a curse. I never forget a face. My little sister has it too. It’s very rare.”

“You’re a super recognizer?”

“Yes.”

Holy shit. Now the pieces are starting to come together.

Next

I can understand him protecting Sally, but her grandfather? What does he think is going on here? Or better yet, what does he know that I don’t know? Sally, or whatever her real name is, must know Zelda is trying to save them from the cartel. Right? That is what’s happening here, isn’t it? Damned if I know. Zelda has access to a lot more information than she is sharing. If Grandpa is the old man I saw Sally with on the yacht, he may be trying to make things right with his maker before the curtain drops. If Sally is his only family, when Granddad goes, so goes Sally. So, they’re trying to exit stage left, leaving their fortune and business to the Feds.

I don’t know. It sounds too easy. The second floor goes by. This is a really slow freight elevator. Noisy, too. I can’t tell what’s happening above me. Even though school’s out for the summer, the staff and maintenance crew are working. Their day should end soon, though, and then it will be just us, at the top of the world, where Gabriel likes to be.

My phone buzzes. It’s Red. Zelda told her that a girl arrived and entered the McGill home.

I text her back. Celia, the dog walker. They must be planning on coming back.

No response. Damn it, Red.

One of the McGill brothers is dead, and one is alive. Danielle said someone stabbed Dennis and killed him. Barclay likes me, but when I put on Dennis’ clothes, Barclay got angry, and he did it again with the knife that supposedly killed Dennis. What if Barclay is trying to tell me something? And the photo I found shows there is a slight difference between Dennis and Paul. Paul’s daughter said she saw him, but her mom said she was mistaken. Did her mom know Paul was dead and not Dennis? No wonder this case remains unsolved. And who was trying to solve it? Jack? They killed him.

The fourth floor passes.

“Whose using the elevator?” The voice comes through a speaker on the side of the door.

I push the button and try to sound like an immigrant. “Maintenance.” That didn’t work. I have no idea how to do that.

The elevator stops halfway onto the fifth floor. I pull on the strap to open the gate and then grab the leather strap on the thick door to pull the top up and lower the bottom. I don’t need to open it all the way, just enough to squeeze out. It won’t start up again with the door open. I think I know that for a fact. At least, that’s what my grandfather told me. He used to operate one of these in a fancy hotel.

I lean on the bottom door and it slides down beyond the floor, causing me to fall forward, my hands, arms, and head on the fifth-floor landing, and the rest of me inside the elevator.

Don’t start now. Please don’t start now. Grandpa, help me out here.

I feel the skin tighten on my arms as I stretch to reach for something to help me pull myself out, but there is nothing there, just a dirty, greasy floor. Perfect. Maybe if I step back into the elevator and jump, I can get more of my body onto the floor.

I slide back down a bit and the elevator makes a noise as it bounces. It’s going to move. I have to do this now or I will be pulled back in or worse.

One, two, jump. My waist and hips make it onto the edge of the opening just as the elevator starts moving downward. I swing my legs back and forth to gain momentum and give it one hard power move, rolling onto my hip and butt, my shoes touching the top door as it comes down, leaving me lying there on my back, looking up at an empty shaft. Thanks, Gramps. I owe you one.

Next

Someone has placed peionies at the base of the memorial. Daniel loved peionies. He said they were the most beautiful and yet most fragile of the spring flowers, their heads so heavy and full when they burst open, and then lose all their petals with the first rain. It is as if they know the rain is coming, and they race to defy it. He didn’t want them those last days, afraid he would die when the petals fell. He was wrong. They outlasted him.

I have that unsettling feeling that someone is watching me, someone other than Red, who is surveying the area from the car with binoculars. She raises her hand and signals where I should look. Off to the right, a tall man with his own binoculars is looking at me, or at something in my direction. When he sees me spot him, he starts walking, using a cane and favoring one leg. I’d recognize that gait anywhere. It’s Jake.

I signal to Red to follow him, and I start walking as swiftly as my swollen ankle will allow. Breathing with this bandage on is nearly impossible, so I stop and pull it off, a little too quickly, because it catches on my beard. A little girl trying to use a hula hoop sees me as the last of the bandage falls, and she screams. The days of the cute smiles and waves are over, I guess.

When I get to the road, Red is waiting for me, without Jake.

“Did you lose him?”

“Holy shit, look at you.” She stares at my face. I resist using the sideview mirror to check out my appearance.

“Where did he go?”

She hands me a gold blank. “He said to tell you a friend of yours left this on the monument.”

“Gabriel. Jake took it?”

‘He said he didn’t want someone else to get it.”

“Why did you let him go?” I climb into the car and flip up the visor so I don’t see my face in the mirror.

“A car pulled up and he jumped in.”

“Why didn’t you follow him?” I should slap her silly.

“He said you’ll know where to find him when you’re ready.”

“What does that mean?” I struggle to clip my seat belt and turn to her. “Did you at least get a good look at the car?”

“A police cruiser.”

“What the-”

“I need to get to Zelda, she’s texting me.”

“Drop me off somewhere first, and I’ll join you later.”

“You’re going to walk around like that?” She points to my face. I’m still not looking.

“Drop me off in the back.” I point to the Board of Education Building. “No one will see me.”

“You think he’s there with the girl?” She hands me a Glock 19. “Better safe than sorry.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you cared.”

“Less thinking, more doing.”

I get out near the back door and look up. Something up at the dome flashes in the afternoon sunlight. He sees me.

Next

Without looking at the arm, I unravel the gauze, piling it on the bed beside me. When I’m done, I rationalize that my right arm doesn’t look too bad, given what it looked like when I first wrapped it. It is swollen, red, and sore to the touch. The left arm is worse. One of the blisters has burst, and is oozing. I will need to wash and cover that.

“What are you doing?” The aide runs in, lifts up the bandages, throws them down again, and rushes off, probably to get the nurse.

I need to work fast. Before tackling the bandages on my face, I pinch the flow on the IVs and pull the needles out, letting them drop to the floor. I slip out of the bed and retrieve my clothes, leaving the hospital gown behind. Putting on my pullover shirt is painful. I should have done this before removing the bandages. Figures.

The man in the next bed starts moaning loudly and calling for the nurse. Just what I need. No time to remove the remaining bandages, so I grab a towel from the sink and throw it over my head. As I walk into the hallway, I keep my head lowered. I walk like an old man in pain and moan occasionally. Aides, nurses, and orderlies pass me by without questioning me or offering to help. Nice hospital. As I reach the room where the goons are guarding the boy, I pretend to trip and fall to my knees. From here, I can see under the curtain. There is someone in the bed, with the sheet pulled up to his chin. None of the monitors are buzzing, and I can’t see anyone else in there.

One of the guards offers to help me up, and I moan when he touches me.

“Thank you,” I say, lowering my voice to a near growl. I can feel my phone buzz, so I stand and continue past them toward the door to the hallway. A security guard spots me, so I duck into a bathroom, not realizing it is a women’s room. I shuffle into one of the stalls as a woman is washing her hands at the sink. I remove the towel from my head and wait for her to leave, hoping she didn’t notice my shoes. How many women wear reinforced leather jobs like these?

The text is from Red. I’m going to break you out of there.

Where have you been? The boy is dead.

What boy?

Never mind. I’m in the ladies’ room near the ambulance entrance to the ER.

There is a pounding on the door to the restroom. “Security. Are you okay in there?”

Time for my old lady voice. “My daughter is coming to get me. I’ll only be a minute more.”

I can’t tell if he’s leaving or waiting for me to emerge, so I wait for Red. She’ll know how to handle it.

When she arrives, she is pushing a wheelchair.

“What’s that for?”

“They won’t let you leave without one. Come, I’m parked illegally.”

“Of course you are.”

When we get into the car, I notice the back seats are loaded with canvas bags and metal boxes. “What’s all that?”

“Our get out of jail free cards.”

I catch her staring at my arms.

“I need you to drive me somewhere.” I actually want her to make a few stops before we dive back into the mess. The first one is the pond near where the boy was shot.

Next

I struggle to move, with IVs sticking out of the tops of both hands, the only place that isn’t burned and blistering.

“Hang loose, Zeke.” She gives me the kind of smile that tells me she knows that name stings.

“You’re not going to McGill’s place without me. I need answers from that guy.”

The moans from the next bed grow louder, as if in response to my demand.

“I need to do a little research. Don’t worry. I’ll fill you in. You got your phone on you?”

“Yes.” I point to my shorts in the bag on the chair, and she rummages through, making note of the number before handing it to me.

“I’ll text you when I find what I’m looking for.”

“And that is?”

“Who’s fuckin’ with us.”

“And why?”

“I think I know why.” She leans close enough for me to smell her spearmint breath. “We’re the diversion. While we have been screwing around, they’re making their big move.”

“They kill for no reason other than a diversion?”

She gives me a different look this time, one I am reluctant to try to decipher. She pats my foot, turns, and leaves.

When the aide comes in to check to see if I left her anything in the urinal, I ask her if there is a television anywhere nearby. I don’t expect there to be one in the emergency room, but I can ask. The waiting room is the closest one.

“I don’t suppose you can wheel me out there so I can check the news?”

She shakes her head. “But there’s Wifi for your phone.”

I show her my cheap voice and text flip phone, and she smiles.

“Well, maybe you can help me,” I say, having won her over, “did a young boy come through here with gunshot wounds?”

She looks away and then back again before walking around to my right side. She points, and I follow her finger to a couple of bodyguard types standing outside a small glass room like mine.

“Is that him? Is he in that room?”

She pats my shoulder and sticks a thermometer in my mouth. It tastes like hand sanitizer. She might have done that on purpose.

If that’s him, then he’s alive, but wouldn’t he be in surgery by now, or in post-op?

“Is he alive?”

She turns to face me from the doorway and shakes her head. After she leaves, I keep my slits-for-eyes focused on the room across the command center where nurses and doctors convene to discuss their patients and triage them. No one is looking at the room with the guards, who look more like the guys who shot at me than the cops I’ve seen in and around town.

I knew several of those guys when I worked the streets, but nothing like this outfit, if it is an outfit. They killed the kid. This is not merely a diversion, Red. This is war. I will never forgive myself for shooting my weapon without warning to save Daniel’s life. I will take that mistake to my grave, but this boy was collateral damage. They killed Jack point-blank and tried to kill me, hitting this boy instead. And now they’re guarding him? Where’s his mom? Unless he’s not in there. Why would they be guarding an empty room?

To quote Michael Corleone, Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in. I’ve got to see what’s in that room. This is not going to go well, I can tell now.

Next

This time, she doesn’t even bother to give me the look.

“Right. Carl’s place. We need a different ride, and we need it fast. At least I can spot them with the tracker.”

“If they’re coming in something else, you won’t.” She starts the engine and pulls out of the church lot.

“Where are we going?”

“You said we need wheels. Let’s get some wheels.” She hands me her phone. “Call Zelda and put it on speaker.”

I oblige and mount the phone on the center console.

“Zel, where are you?”

“We were headed toward you, but you started moving.”

I stare at the tracker screen, and adjust the zoom. “She’s not showing up.”

“No,” says Zelda. “We ditched the devices.”

“Smart move,” says Red.

“We did, too, but we’re still showing up.”

Silence.

Red looks in the sideview mirror and then turns around to look out the back window. “Shit.”

“Don’t tell me,” I say, reaching for my gun.

“That’s not going to do anything, says Red.

“We’re getting close. Don’t worry about losing us. Lose him.” Zelda says something else, but I don’t understand.

“Where are the fuckin’ cops?”

I turn to Red. “Head to the police station.”

“I get you.” She turns the wheel as we approach the highway underpass, and runs a red light.

“Zelda, keep an eye on the guys following us. If Red runs another light, the cops are bound to join the circus and the tail will peel away.”

“Then what?” asks Red.

“You’ll see,” I say, loosening the bandages on my face.

“Oh, fuck,” she says, “did you have to do that? I haven’t eaten.”

She turns on Main, headed toward the police and fire headquarters, when a siren blares behind us. I look at the screen.

“They didn’t follow us.”

“We have them in our sight,” says Zelda. “We’ll keep our distance.”

“They are probably headed to the McGill home. That seems to be their HQ for now, that is.” I point to the ramp to the engine company. “Pull in there and run in asking for an ambulance.”

I grab Red’s phone and turn off the speaker. “Don’t go onto the property. It’s at the top of the hill, so you can find a spot down the road and see who comes and goes.”

Red brings the car to a stop and jumps out. She grabs a firefighter and points to me. The police car pulls up beside us, and two cops approach, weapons drawn.

I slip my gun under the seat, hoping they don’t have probable cause to search.

Red runs back to the car to talk to the cops as an ambulance, lights flashing, exits the firehouse and stops. One of the cops withdraws his weapon and opens my door.

“Don’t move,” he says.

I have no desire to move, but I know I will be in a moment.

“What happened to you?” he asks.

An EMT pushes him aside to reach me. “He can answer questions later. We have to get him into the ambulance.”

Red gives me a different look this time. I think I see a smile. She tilts her head back and sneezes. Got that wrong.

As they load me into the ambulance, Red negotiates with the cops. She must have some hidden charm I don’t know about, because they let her drive the car to the hospital behind the ambulance. They even give her an escort, though I believe that is so they can question us about the bullet holes and the damaged driver’s window. I know she knows where the gun is, so I don’t worry about them finding that. She’s resourceful. The phone and the tracker are what we need.

You would think that with two cops waiting to talk to me, the process in the emergency room would go quickly, but I have no ID, and that makes me a suspect without knowing what the crime is.

When I finally get my own semi-private cubicle with what looks like my grandmother’s shower curtain separating my side of the room from the side with a man moaning and wretching, the cops stand guard at the door, and a short female doctor enters, a mask covering her face. If I didn’t know better, I would think it was Zelda.

She introduces herself, but I don’t understand what she said. A nurse enters to hook me up to take my vital signs. I guess they think I might be dead. Fat chance.

“Who took care of you after you were burned?”

" A country doctor.” I omit the word “club” figuring she would not understand.

She spends some time poking and pushing, making sure she got all my buttons.

“I will prescribe something to ease the pain.”

“No,” I say. “I don’t want to be loopy.”

“Loopy?”

I guess they don’t use that word in her country.

“I want to stay aware.”

“It is your choice, of course, but it is not the recommended path.”

“Such is my life, Doc.”

Red shows up in the doorway, talking to the officers. She is holding her phone in a way that suggests they are listening to a call. After a few minutes, or maybe longer, while the doctor strips off my bandages, has the nurse apply ooze all over, and reapply them again, the cops walk away.

I try to signal to her that I don’t understand what just happened, but she turns and talks on the phone.

The doctor leaves without explanation while the nurse finishes making me a mummy again. When the nurse leaves, Red enters, checks the moaning man in the next bed, and leans close to whisper to me.

“Guess who just pulled up to the house?”

I shake my head.

“I’ll give you a hint.” She holds her arms out in front of her, a good distance apart, and twirls her wrists forward and back, making a growling sound.

“Mike?”

There’s that look again.

Next

“So, if they got the judge, then we need to find his daughter. Trying to find the judge is useless.”

Red climbs into the car and closes the door. There’s that look.

“Gabriel.”

“Yeah,” she says, hitting the steering wheel with both palms. “Where to?”

I pull out my phone. No messages. I think about calling him, but I quickly rethink that, since he led me here and then left. “Nowhere.”

“What?”

“He led us here for a reason. There must be a clue here somewhere.” I open the door and slide the good cheek of my butt out of the car. Each step, every God-damned movement makes my eyes water, which is good, because they are so friggin’ dry.

“Where are you going?”

“Follow me.”

I start at the cemetery, not expecting to find anything there, but wanting to cover all bases, and then walk to the blind.

“I can’t climb up that ladder,” I say, stepping aside.

“You expect me to go up there?”

“What are you afraid of heights? It’s not even twenty feet up.” Maybe it is more than twenty, but what the hell, she’s a bitch on wheels.

I watch her climb, not to take note of the tattoos I couldn’t see before, but to make sure she doesn’t fall on me. Yes, I’m being that guy, but damn it, I’m fed up with this shit. “Anything up there? Coins, keys, a note?”

“No,” she says, tripping over one of the doors that make up the floor.

“Are you okay? Did you fall?”

Silence.

“Red? You didn’t knock yourself out, did you?”

More silence. I’m starting to worry. I place the foot on which I sprained my ankle on the lowest rung and grab the rail. I don’t get very far when she leans over the side.

“What are you doing?”

“You didn’t respond.”

“So, you think you are going to climb up and save me?”

“Don’t be that way.” I step down and watch her descend.

She shows me a photo on her phone.

“What am I looking at?”

“He carved an arrow into the floor. This is where it points to, the park downtown.”

I enlarge the photo. “It’s not the park. He was pointing to the top of the building next to the park. The one with Pegasus on it. He calls it an angel, just like he calls Sally, the judge’s daughter, Angel.”

“What building is that?”

“The education department. There is a dome on the roof. You get a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the town from there.”

“How do you know?”

“I know a lot of places where no one will find you. Apparently, Gabriel does, too.”

I start for the car, and she grabs my arm, sending knives of pain up into my brain.

“Where is the tracker?”

“In the car. I left it there when we arrived so I could change clothes.”

Back at the car, I check the screen. “Where did Zelda hide the judge?”

“Why?”

“There is a blinking dot here, and I know where that is.”

“Where?”

“Where I borrowed this Defender. Dennis McGill’s home.”

She looks closely at the screen and zooms out.

“This dot is us.”

“Fuck.”

Next

I could use some help getting in the car, but I won’t dare ask for it. “What is it with you?”

“What do you mean?”

She puts the car in gear and drives down the main road, rather than the one the trucks use.

“You sure it’s safe to go this way?”

“We’d be more conspicuous taking the dirt road, don’t you think?”

She gives me that look again. “Where did you get this car?”

Holy shit. The tracker and beacon. This is one of Dennis’s cars. I pretend I didn’t hear the question. My pocket starts buzzing. I struggle to find my phone without irritating the burns on my hand. Who could be calling me? I think the only one I called with this number is Gabriel’s grandmother.

I flip it open and recognize the number. “Gabriel? Where are you?”

Red is keeping an eye on me while driving, and I am keeping a slit of an eye on where she is headed. I don’t know this area.

“Watchman.”

He’s at the church. “Have you seen the angel?”

“Watchman,” he says again.

Red gives me the look again.

“Stop that,” I say. “Where are you headed? We need to go to Saint Mary’s.”

“Why?”

“The angel is there.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Just drive me there. I’ll explain on the way.”

I give her the Cliff Notes version for the story, and that look tells me she doesn’t buy it. She knows I’m holding back. Apparently, Zelda’s team is not all-knowing and all-seeing like I thought.

“So, you have the judge’s daughter hidden in a church and you think that’s a safe house?”

“I don’t have anyone anywhere, Red. I’m just sharing what little I know with someone who won’t share a damn thing with me.”

This time the eyes squint when she gives me the look.

Crow’s feet. She’s not as young as I thought she was.

At the church, I tell her to wait, and I head to the Thrift Shop to find something extra large to wear, having torn up my shirt to keep from bleeding to death.

“He told me you were coming,” says Sister Monica, walking up behind me. “Mother of God, what happened to you?”

“That’s exactly whose help I need right now, Sister. Tell Mary to turn off the burners and cool me down a bit. I know I’m headed for the furnace, but I’m not dead yet.”

I try to put on a large, button-down cotton shirt, but I need Sister’s help.

“It’s a long story, but I got burned, bad.”

“I can see that.” She crosses herself and pulls out a chair for me to sit. “Who is that in the car?”

“That’s Red.”

“Is she a friend?”

“Is anyone? Present company excluded, of course.”

“How many lives do you have?”

“Like your cats?” I start to laugh but feel my cheeks cracking and stop. I wonder how Blackie is doing without me.

“Gabriel was here with that girl.”

“Was? Where did he go?” I sort through the athletic shorts on the table and find a pair that is loose enough to allow the air to circulate, and has an elastic waistband so they stay on.

“He’s changed,” she says.

She looks scared.

“I know, but I’m not sure it is a bad thing. He’s reliving his military experience, but I think he believes he has a second shot at changing the outcome. That is the part I’m concerned about.”

“What do you mean?” She folds her hands in prayer, and I notice rosary beads intertwined in the fingers.

“It is good that he is breaking out of his trauma, but he is emerging in a dangerous way. He thinks he is fighting a war.”

“But what about the girl he calls Angel?”

“I think he believes she is one of the forgotten that were left behind, and he wants to save her. She may feel threatened, and he won’t understand that.”

“Mother of God.”

“Her again?”

The door to the thrift shop opens. “Hey, we gotta go,” says Red, sounding rushed.

I give Sister a kiss on the cheek and climb the stairs into the light of day.

Red grabs my arm and pulls me back to the car, helping me in.

“What’s the rush?” I ask.

“Zelda called. The Judge is missing.”

Next

All I can see is a cloud of dust from the dirt road as it passes. I check the screen of the tracker. The dot is moving away from us. It worked. So, where’s Red?

I try to stand, but my left leg feels heavy and won’t respond to my request. I’ve been hit. I probably would feel the pain if it didn’t have to compete against the burns and the Oxy. I have to stand. I need to assess the damage, find Red, and get us out of here.

First things first. I pull open the trunk, looking for something to use to stop the bleeding. It’s not gushing, but it was a good hit, right in the muscle, possibly up and out my butt. Oh, fun.

The only thing I find in the truck is the spare tire and a tire rod, which I used to cut my shirt so I can make a tourniquet. I do my best to stop the blood flow, but my best isn’t good enough. Before I close the trunk, I check the tires. One is flat. Bullet holes mark a path from the driver’s window to the back tire. I don’t think he hit the tank. That would have been bad.

I can’t wait until I change the tire. I need to find Red. I manage to slide into the driver’s seat and start it up. Riding the rim on dirt shouldn’t be as bad as on asphalt, but it’s not great. The road leads to the back door of the catering area, where the dumpsters are. I don’t see her. Could he have taken her with him?

I check the tracker screen again. The dot is still moving. Either she swapped it out or she wound up in the SUV with Middle Finger. I could use another Oxy about now, and something to drink would be nice, too. I slip the gun under the seat again and open the door. If someone sees me, they’ll either scream or call security, or both. I make it to the front of the SUV before my legs give out.

Through the slits that used to be my eyes, I see someone running toward me. Here we go.

“Hey, let me help you.”

The man grabs me under my armpits and pulls me up like I’m as light as a rag doll. He smells of kitchen grease, and I realize he must have been emptying the grease from the fryer when he saw me.

Another guy pops his head out of the doorway, and my guy yells something in Spanish at him. I should learn that so I understand what’s going on around me. If I survive this, that is.

“Either of you see a girl with rainbow hair and tattoos?”

They look at each other, and one nods. “We go inside. Fix you up.”

Fix me up? This is not a mobile Army service hospital. It’s God-damned country club.

As they drag me into the kitchen, an electric cart pulls up, one like you find on a golf course, but these aren’t golfers. Two MMA-types jump out. One heads toward us, while the other checks out the SUV. If my instincts are correct, he will recognize it as one of theirs, whoever they are.

The two Spanish-speaking guys bring me into what looks like a school nurse’s office, only larger.

“Hold on,” says the MMA guy, taking Bigfoot steps toward us. He follows us in, making the room feel as tight as a train station during a snowstorm, but before he can say anything else, something starts buzzing on his belt. He palms it and stares at the screen. “Keep him here,” he says and runs out.

I shrug at the two guys and one says, “Alert.”

“Oh.”

The door opens again, and this time an older man with gray hair and beard enters, open white medical coat over a typical golf outfit.

“I hope I didn’t spoil your game,” I say.

“What the fuck happened to you?” He turns to the two guys and waves them off. One smiles at me and crosses himself. Oh shit. Now God’s gonna get involved.

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I try to stare into his eyes, but my eyes won’t cooperate.

“Let me take a look.”

He pushes me down on the table and approaches with a needle.

“Woah. What’s that?”

“It’ll relax you.”

“I don’t need relaxing.” I need to keep my wits, whatever wits are left, about me.

“It’s your funeral,” he says, not making me feel any better.

He starts poking and prodding, pulling at my pants, and finding every possible way to make the pain worse, while I focus on the alert.

Red.

She must have activated the beacon. I need to look at the tracker. I reach into my pocket, but it isn’t there. It must have fallen out.

After what seems like an hour, Bones finishes stitching me up and takes a look at my bandages. “You need to get medical help with your burns.”

“Yeah.” Obviously.

He doesn’t say anything else. He removes his white jacket, hangs it on a hook, and opens the door, just as Red walks in.

“You know you have a flat tire? Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“But, what happened to you?” Her clothes are torn and greasy, and her feet are still bare, but covered in what looks like mud.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? Come on. I got the guys to help me put on the spare.”

Fuckin’ A.

Next

She gives me a look I can only describe as that, a look.

I open the glove compartment and lean back in my seat. “What the fuck is that?”

Red glances at the device attached to the back wall of the compartment and points to something lying beside it. “We’re being tracked by GPS. Open that pouch. You should recognize that.”

I flip open the flat box the size of a deck of cards. A small video screen displays our position. “Who are these guys?”

“In the old days, you used to call them mercenaries, but they are much more sophisticated now.”

I check out the GPS tracker. “This is equipped with a beacon alert to let others know where we’re in trouble. Do you think they know who’s got this tag?”

She jerks the wheel and turns onto a dirt path, trying to keep far enough behind the other car without losing him. “What are you thinking? You want to draw them to us?”

I can’t smile. The skin is too tight, but I realize this may just be the ticket to our endgame.

She grabs her phone and with one hand manages to hold it and dial, keeping the screen of the phone visible while driving.

“Where are you?” asks Zelda.

“If you haven’t left yet, check the glove compartments of the other cars and pull out the GPS beacon. Activate the one you leave at the house and bring the other one with you.”

“Good move,” I say.

“Got to go. Police arriving.”

By setting off the beacon at Carl’s place, whoever is doing the tracking will send backups to help the person or persons in trouble, at least if they are following military rules, which they have been so far.

“What about this one?” I point to the GPS tracker beacon in the glove compartment.

“That one will bring them home to Papa.”

The SUV is almost out of sight, but instead of following, she pulls over onto the grass along the dirt road.

“Why are we stopping here?” I recognize the area as the edge of the bird sanctuary which borders a golf club, a prestigious one at that.

“He knows we’re following him. That’s why he came here. Public and private.”

“He must have a membership.”

“Or he’s a guest of someone who does.”

The dirt road we are on is usually accessed by maintenance and sanitation trucks, out of sight and out of mind of the membership.

“He’s not going to lead us to anyone important.”

“No. You’re right, but we can bring everyone to him, and us.” She grabs the beacon and opens her door.

“Wait,” I say, grabbing her wrist. That knot in my stomach that is my early warning signal is tightening. “What if he is a decoy?”

“You think so?”

“They tracked me to Carl’s, so they must be tracking us now. They know we are here, and so he must know as well. We’ll be walking into a trap.”

“You think they’ll arrest us?”

“If they do, they won’t be real cops. This is a private club. Very private, with its own security. The kind that acts like mercenaries.” I grab the location finder from its small case and hand it to her. “Can you program this thing to keep focused on this tag?”

She studies the unit. “It’s already locked on this device. It must be so someone can take it with them and leave the car behind.”

“Now comes the tricky part.” I look at her multi-colored hair, tats and rings. “Take off your shoes.

“Why?”

“You look like a commando in those boots. You need to look like an obnoxious teen.”

“I used to be one of those.”

“Not surprised. I can’t do this looking like the Hulk. You need to slip this into his car and take his out.”

“Clever,” she says.

“Can you do it?”

She gives me that look again, and I know she’s game.

I fix my slitty eyes on the finder in my lap and watch the tracker make its way up the hill to the club. When it stops moving, I count to ten, assuming it should not take longer than that to do the swap. I expect it to remain still while she returns, and for a while it does, but then it starts moving, quickly. It is headed this way.

Next

I pull over and adjust my side-view mirror. Red, Zelda, the old man, and American Flag all jump out of the cars at once and take cover. I know I am going to regret this, but I put the car in reverse and park two houses away.

“Go back inside,” I yell to a woman who stepped out of her home to see what the commotion was. “Call the police.”

I don’t really want the police, but if we fail, someone needs to stop these guys.

Red sees me and runs toward me, ducking all the way. “Get away from here.”

“Are you crazy? You need my help.” Why did I say that?

“You want to help? Drive me around the block. We can disable their vehicles and come up behind them.

I expect to see two cars on the next block, but there are three look-alike SUVs, much like what I am driving. I stop a few houses down.

“What are you doing?” Red asks.

I get out and open the trunk to retrieve the box.

“What’s that?”

“Our Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Do you have a knife?” I ask.

She pulls out a switchblade. Why am I not surprised? I motion to her to take out the tires on the SUVs. The house is silent. Not a good sign. They could be done shooting up the place and are ready to leave.

“Why did they go after Carl’s home?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says, but she doesn’t use the blade on the tires. “You really stepped in it. We’ve been after these guys for a while, but we wanted to cut the head off the snake. We were going to be patient, but when they took out Carl, Zelda went nuts.”

“Who are you?”

She puts her forefinger to her mouth and waves me down, but I need to know before I do what I am planning to do.

I lean in and ask, “What’s in the house that they want?”

“They want the judge.”

“But he’s not here, right? He’s back at the senior housing facility.”

She shakes her head and motions for me to keep moving, away from their vehicles.

“There was no one in there when I left.”

Red checks her phone and shows me a message from Zelda. All clear.

“What does that mean?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she dials a number and pushes my head down, forcing me to lie on the ground.

She covers her ears, and I try to do the same, but my arms won’t cooperate.

Several men exit the back door just as the blast sends wood and glass into them, tossing them against their vehicles. “Sorry, Carl,” she says, grabbing my arm, causing me to gasp for breath.

Someone runs from the side of the house toward the SUVs. He somehow escaped the blast. We keep out of sight until he drives past us and leaves. I recognize him. He’s the one who flipped me the bird.

I look at Red and then open the box. It’s empty.

Red makes a call and puts it on speaker. “We’re going to follow him.”

“Good. We’ll get the target to safety.”

In the distance, sirens approach, growing louder fast.

“We have to follow him.” She jumps into the driver’s seat.

“What the fuck is going on?” I ask, getting in the car.

She buckles up and hits the gas. “Thanks for the explosive. It made our job so much easier.”

“You’re going to tell me what’s going on here, right?” I slip my gun under my leg.

“You won’t need that. We’re on the same side, Zeke.”

Shit. Her, too? Could she and Jack have been working together? Were they all working with Jack?

“I need painkillers.”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small vial. “Oxy,” she says. “Sorry, but I don’t have water.”

Next