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“And yet here you are.”

Devon nodded. “Yeah, here I am.” He looked around the small room. “There was no fuckin’ warning. Everything was goin’ fine. I had most of the shit loaded up already, and I’d just gone back in to grab a few more things. All of a sudden I look up and there are these two fuckin’ cops looking back at me, these big, wide, shit-eating grins on their faces.”

“So, what do you think happened?” Fi

“Only one possibility.”

“Someone dropped dime?”

“I don’t see how else this happens. There was no alarm, I didn’t make any fuckin’ noise, and there was no one else around. The cops had to be tipped.”

Fi

“I got the job from Vi

Fi

“Really?”

“Bail hearing shouldn’t be too bad. I took a look at your sheet, and it’s been a while since you’ve picked up any convictions. The DA will be looking for high bail, but I’m guessing the judge would be reasonable about it if it’s handled right.”

“I been arrested a couple times in the past few years,” Devon said. He sounded skeptical. “And the shit I was caught with ain’t cheap.”

Fi

“No shit. That’s why I need a fuckin’ miracle worker.”

“Even miracle workers hate to lose cases, Devon. Unless you’ve got something to give to the DA to get him to make a decent plea offer, you’re screwed. You really think you can get some sort of helpful information once you’re out after the arraignment? Something we might be able to trade?”

“Maybe. When’s the arraignment?”

Fi

Devon shook his head. “No good. The longer I stay in here, the colder the fuckin’ rat’s trail gets. You want me to get you something to use with the DA, you gotta spring me sooner.”

“You may be putting too much stock in the ‘miracle worker’ reputation I have. There’s no way I can change the court’s schedule.”

“No, I guess not,” Devon said. He looked down at the floor as he tapped his feet anxiously. Then he looked up at Fi

“I don’t do windows,” Fi

“C’mon,” Devon pleaded. “I’m not askin’ for much. Just ask a few fuckin’ questions. Otherwise, we may never find out who tipped off the cops.”

Fi

“I may not want to pay it, but I will,” Devon said. “I’m desperate, and payin’ you beats the shit out of going to jail. Besides, don’t you have some sort of private investigator you could use?”

“Sort of,” Fi

“Take him anyway. You want someone ridin’ shotgun. Guys like Vi

Fi

“I know. I’ll pay it,” Devon replied simply. “I need this.”

Fi

“I swear to fuckin’ God, Fi

“Your mother passed?”

“Not yet, but she’s got the cancer. Any day. Shit, Fi

Fi

“You’re a good shit, Fi

Fi

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Devon. There’s something else.”

“Don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Devon was silent for a moment. “Okay. I got one other favor to ask,” he began.

“Of course you do.”

“There’s a woman in my apartment. It’s a little fucked up with her.”

“You never change, do you Devon.”

“Like you said, not in any way that’s important. I didn’t call her when I got pinched, so she’s probably a little twitchy. She’s gotta go down to her ma’s place in Providence today.”

“You want me to get her a message?” Fi

“It’s not that simple.”

Fi

Devon looked hard at Fi

“You’d better,” Fi

“You don’t understand; there’s no one else I trust. I’m not in the right business for trust-not when it comes to shit that really matters. You know that better than anyone, right?”

Fi

Devon sighed. “It’s about my daughter.”

Chapter Two

Detective Paul Stone drove. He and Elorea Sanchez had been partners for two weeks. Though he’d been a cop for five years, he was a rookie on the homicide squad, and she had every right to take the wheel, but never did. They walked out of the station house that first day to the dented, unmarked Lincoln and Sanchez had tossed the keys onto the driver’s seat. She’d never said a word about it, and Stone had driven ever since. He’d joked once that she must like having a younger man chauffeuring her around the city, but it hadn’t gone over well. She just stared at him with a hard look that was effective at cutting off conversation.

She wasn’t easy to figure out. They’d spent nearly ten hours a day together for two weeks, but they seldom spoke more than a few words to each other at a time. Her idea of conversation was to tell him where to turn. Most of what he knew about her he’d gotten from her perso