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  ***

  Ian made his mother a cup of tea and got her settled in the kitchen. He closed all the blinds because she didn’t like to look out in the backyard at night. Too many shadows made her nervous. The doorbell rang just before 7:30. He told his mother he was going to let their company in, then went through the living room to open the door.

  The first thing that struck Ian was the dark circles imbedded beneath Sam’s eyes. His beard and mustache were straggly, which was also unusual. Ian said, “C’mon in, Sam. My mother’s out in the kitchen.”

  Sam had his hands jammed in his pants pocket. He smiled, or tried to, and said, “Think she’ll remember me?”

  Ian shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s really unpredictable.”

  A flood of cold air followed Sam into the house. Ian pushed the door closed and led the way into the kitchen. “Just don’t try to force her memories,” he said. “That upsets her and she’ll shut right down.”

  Corinne looked up as they entered the room. She’d fixed her hair today and tamed the frizz. Ian had finally remembered to water down her perfume, so she didn’t stink. And her clothes even matched. To see her now, sitting comfortably at the table, smiling warmly, no one would guess at the turmoil that raged within her.

  “Good evening,” Corinne said.

  Sam approached awkwardly. He jerked his hands from his pockets, looked as if he might hug her, then stopped and dropped them to his sides. He said, “Hi Corinne. You look great.”

  Her face lit up with her smile. “Thank you.”

  Ian motioned to the chair opposite Corinne. “Have a seat, Sam,” he said. “Want a beer or something?”

  Sam shook his head. His eyes roamed the kitchen, never settling on Corinne for long. “No. No thanks.”

  Ian slid into the chair beside his mother. He waited to be sure he had her attention, then said, “Ma, do you remember Sam?”

  Corinne stared at him blankly. When she didn’t respond, Ian said, “Sam is an old friend of yours. He stopped by tonight to see you.”

  Her eyes darted back to Sam. She clasped her hands together and said, “I knew that, silly.”

  Ian could see that she didn’t but felt the need to cover for her lack of recognition. She asked Sam how he was and they made small talk for a few minutes. Sam pulled at his beard, fidgeted, and had trouble meeting Corinne’s eyes.

  As always, Corinne began speaking in circles and confusing reality with old TV shows. Sam handled it well and they spoke about the characters on Happy Days as if they were next door neighbors.

  About twenty minutes later, Sam said, “This has been real nice, Corinne. I’ve got to get going now but I hope we can do this again soon.”

  She beamed up at him. “I’d like that, Sam.”

  Ian walked Sam to the door. Sam said, “I had no idea. I mean, you told me… but till you see it for yourself…”

  “Yeah, I know,” Ian said.

  Sam turned away, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry this happened, Ian. I wish… It’s just not right. Does her doctor say whether, you know, she’ll get cured?”

  “There’s no way of knowing for sure. But we’re holding out hope.”

  Sam nodded. “Thanks. For letting me come over.”

  “Sure, Sam.”

  Sam walked slowly down the driveway, his posture slumped, an air of defeat about him. Ian felt the sadness as he closed the door.

  Lucianna paced the length of her living room. She kept thinking she should have told Ian not to allow Sam in the house. She told herself, logically, that was a ridiculous worry. Ian was a grown man and perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

  Still she continued pacing. Dylan watched her from his perch on the couch. She looked at him and said, “What do you think Sam’s up to?”

  Dylan had no reply.

  When her phone finally rang, she nearly dove across the room to grab it. Ian’s greeting put her instantly at ease. She said, “So what happened?”

  “Nothing, really,” Ian said. “He sat with us for awhile, talked nonsense with my mother. Then he left. He seemed really, I don’t know, sad maybe? And sort of on edge. He didn’t stop fidgeting the whole time he was here.”

  “Odd.”

  “Yeah. But, then again, he used to date my mother. Seeing her like this was probably creepy for him.”

  “Do you think he was uncomfortable because you were right there the whole time?”

  “I don’t know,” Ian replied. “It’s possible. But I didn’t get the impression he was in a hurry to be alone with her.”

  They talked a little longer about Sam’s visit. Then Lucianna said, “I guess we didn’t learn much. I still think there’s something odd about Sam’s involvement in this. I just can’t seem to put my finger on what it is.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Please try to be sure your mom understands that she shouldn’t open the door for anyone when you’re not there.”

  “I’ve been talking to her about it a few times a day,” Ian said. “It’s worse than trying to teach a kid because she forgets entire conversations from one minute to the next.”

  “I can imagine how frustrating that must be,” Lucianna said. “Hang in there. I’ve got some things to check on tomorrow. I’ll give you a call later in the day and give you an update.”

  “Thanks. What you’re doing… it means a lot to me.”

  A warm shiver raced down Lucianna’s back. She said good night and sank onto the couch beside Dylan. He stared at her with big green eyes. She said, “You’ll like Ian.” Dylan continued to stare.

  “Who knows,” she said. “Maybe Ian and I will settle down together and give you some brothers and sisters.”

  Dylan stood, stretched, then hopped off the couch and wandered away. Go figure.

  ***

  Sam stared at the picture of his ex-wife and daughter. It had been taken nearly eleven years ago, a few months before the divorce. He wished he could see what his daughter looked like now. A young woman, twenty-five years old. He might even be a grandfather. Imagine that. Bouncing a little one on his knee. Pulling quarters out of his ear. That’s what he should be doing.

  He’d destroyed it all. His marriage. His relationship with his daughter. His life. All for his obsession with gambling.

  And now he was on the verge of dragging yet another person down with him. Corinne. Already she was suffering because of someone else. He wasn’t about to drag her the rest of the way down, simply to save himself.

  He would have laughed at that thought had he not felt like vomiting. Saving himself? If he were honest about it, he’d admit that he’d been dead inside for years. Working for Nico may have kept his body alive but his spirit had died the day his daughter had walked away forever.

  Sam wanted to tear through his house, punch holes in walls and shatter anything in his path. But he remained rational enough to know that wasn’t the answer. When the rage subsided, he’d be left with the same deep despair. His actions, so far, had changed nothing.

  He slammed the photo album closed, glanced at the clock. 9:15. Not too late, really. He sighed. It wouldn’t matter if it were midnight. He had to make the call. And he had to do it now.

  His heart pounded against his chest as if needing to escape the restraints of his ribcage. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket. The card sat in the back of the pile, behind his health insurance card. He may be needing that soon, as well.

  He forced himself to breathe slowly as he stared at the numbers. He could fix this. Or at least help. And, in the process, help himself. Not as heroic a deed as he would have liked. Selfish motives still nudged him. This time, though, his selfishness put no one at risk and would, hopefully, help the ones that mattered.

  He stood on shaky legs and walked to the phone. It felt oddly normal in his hand. Maybe he expected the phone to burst into flames. Or be too heavy to lift.

  He glanced at the card again. By this time he had memorized the numbers. But he checked again anyway. Then
he swallowed hard and dialed.

  Chapter 32

  Lucianna was just slipping into her pajamas when the phone rang. She pulled the top over her head as she strode across the bedroom. A big part of her hoped to hear Ian’s voice. She glanced at Dylan and muttered, “I think about him way too much.” Dylan blinked but, as usual, did not answer.

  “Lucianna Martel?”

  The voice registered somewhere in her memory, although she could not put a name or face to it. “Yes?”

  “This is Sam Evans. We need to talk.”

  Lucianna sank onto the edge of her bed. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  “Not on the phone.”

  “Would you like to come to my office?”

  “No way,” Sam said. “There’s an all-night diner on Center Street. You know the one I’m talking about?”

  “I do.”

  “Can you meet me there in a half hour?”

  The urgency, as well as the secrecy, bothered Lucianna. What had happened between the time he’d visited Corinne and now to cause this sudden need to talk? Or maybe it had been something about the meeting itself? Although Ian had said nothing unusual had happened.

  After a brief pause, Lucianna said, “I can be there.”

  “See you then.”

  The connection clicked off. Lucianna put the phone down and sighed. Something very strange was definitely going on. She snatched the phone back up and dialed while walking over to her closet.

  “Good evening my darling niece.”

  Lucianna chuckled. “Caller I.D. or E.S.P.?”

  “Maybe a bit of both,” Vinnie replied.

  “I need your assistance.”

  “I am at your disposal.”

  “Sam Evans just called me.” Lucianna explained the vague phone call, then said, “I don’t think there will be any problems. But, just in case, I’d like you to hang around outside the diner. Keep watch for me. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not,” Vinnie said. “I’m on my way. Don’t bother looking for me. I’ll follow you home afterward and we can discuss things then.”

  “Thanks Vinnie.”

  “My pleasure.”

  ***

  Skeets had followed Sam home from the crazy lady’s house. And now, once again, he sat in his car on the corner of the road. He’d circled the block a dozen times already. A few minutes ago he’d seen one of the neighbors standing on a front porch, watching him. He was getting noticed and that made him nervous.

  Many of the houses were already dark. People all tucked in for the night. Safe in their little world. He hated them. And, though he’d admit it to no one, he also envied them.

  He checked his watch. A cheap Timex he’d stolen a few weeks ago. One of these days he’d own something that mattered. And he wouldn’t have to steal it.

  Time dragged. He checked his watch again. 9:35. The neighbor stepped back out on the porch. His welcome had definitely run out. He shoved the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. The neighbor stood on his porch, watching his taillights. Good thing he’d stolen the license plate earlier that day and stuck it on his car. The last thing he needed was a bunch of cops chasing him down, wanting to know what he’d been up to tonight.

  Skeets drove slowly past Sam’s house. Only one dim light shone through the window. The guy had done what Nico asked. He’d gone to that crazy lady’s house. And now he was back home, probably nestled in for the night.

  As Skeets rolled to a stop at the end of the street, he considered his next move. No way could he keep circling this damn block. Too many nosey fucks around that didn’t know enough to mind their own damn business. Sure was different here than where he was from. There he could stand outside someone’s place holding a shotgun and no one would dare look twice. They sure as hell wouldn’t call the cops.

  He turned left and headed back where he was comfortable. He’d done all he could for today. Besides, he was starving and really had to piss.

  ***

  Lucianna walked into Al’s Diner at two minutes after ten that night. The place smelled like greasy bacon and old coffee. Not a pleasant combination, particularly for a vegetarian tea-drinker.

  She spotted Sam in a rear corner booth, sitting with his back to the wall, facing the door. The only other customers were two stoned teenagers sitting by the window. They brazenly eyed Lucianna. She ignored them, crossed the room, and said, “Hello Sam.”

  Sam nodded and motioned for her to sit across from him. He didn’t smile, didn’t meet her eyes. One hand was wrapped around a nearly empty coffee mug. The other hand rested on the table, fingers drumming against the stained Formica.

  Lucianna perched on the seat and tried to center herself, as her yoga instructor had always harped about. She was not one for patience. Finally she said, “Did you ask me here to talk or are you practicing some sort of telepathy?”

  He lifted his eyes and his gaze skittered across hers. He said, “You want anything?”

  “Words would be nice.”

  “I meant like coffee or something.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  He sighed, turned his head and caught the attention of the waitress. She wandered over, a fifty-something woman with brittle, overly dyed blonde hair. “More coffee?” she asked Sam.

  “Please,” he replied.

  The waitress turned to Lucianna. She had that look of perpetual exhaustion that could never be fixed by any amount of sleep. She asked, “Anything for you?”

  “No thank you,” Lucianna replied.

  They sat in silence until the waitress returned and refilled Sam’s cup. He took a slow sip before speaking. “I can help you,” he said.

  Lucianna figured as much. Why else would they be meeting in this dingy diner? “Okay,” she said. Then she waited.

  Sam rubbed his eyes, pulled at his beard, and sipped more coffee. When he finally spoke again, his voice was soft, almost lifeless. “I know some things. About Corinne. Might help make sense of all this.”

  Lucianna leaned forward. “So tell me.”

  “You gotta understand,” Sam continued. “Talking to you could get me, you know, killed. Or worse.”

  “Worse than killed?”

  Sam’s already pale face lost more color. He said, “Yeah. Sometimes death is easier.” He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “I’ll tell you everything I know. But I need two things from you in return.”

  “What?”

  “First, no cops. I don’t want anyone knowing I talked to you.”

  “Fine,” Lucianna replied. “What else?”

  “I need ten grand.”

  Lucianna kept her gaze fixed on Sam’s face. She showed no reaction. The request didn’t surprise her. More often than not, money was a factor in situations such as this. And normally she didn’t mind paying for her information. But ten thousand dollars was a lot to ask, particularly when she had no guarantees that the information was worth it. She’d never believed in blind faith.

  Lucianna let the silence hang between them. When Sam began to fidget, she said, “That’s a lot of money.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re telling me this information you have is worth ten grand?”

  “I’ll have to disappear,” Sam said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I tell you what I know, I’m dead here.”

  Lucianna propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. She continued to watch Sam, pretended to think. She said, “You know I can’t authorize this on my own. I’d have to talk to my client. I don’t even know whether that kind of money can be raised.”

  “Ian will do it,” Sam muttered. “He loves his mother.”

  “Maybe so,” Lucianna said. “The fact remains, however, that not too many people have ten thousand dollars at their disposal. You’re asking a lot.”

  “I’m asking for what I need to stay alive.”

  “Give me until noon tomorrow. I’ll have an answer for you then.”

  Sam nodded, his gaze fixed on his coffee
mug. “I’ll call you.”

  “On my cell phone.”

  She jotted the number down on the back of a napkin. Sam took it from her and said, “Okay. Noon. And no cops.”

  Lucianna slid out of the booth. “Good night, Sam.”

  He closed his eyes and let out a long breath as she walked away.

  Chapter 33

  Vinnie strode up the walk just as Lucianna was unlocking her door. He said, “I forgot how much fun surveillance is.”

  “It’s one step above watching grass grow,” Lucianna replied as she pushed open her door.

  Vinnie followed her inside. She scooped up Dylan, who had been sitting patiently in the hall, waiting. As she greeted him with kisses and a promise of treats, Vinnie said, “A homeless guy almost pissed on my tire.”

  Lucianna burst into laughter. “I bet that brightened your evening.”

  Vinnie scowled at her. “I was not amused.”

  “I bet the homeless guy wasn’t too amused either when you threatened to rip his dick off.”

  “How did you know I did that?”

  Lucianna set Dylan on the kitchen floor. She took a package of treats from the cabinet and dropped a handful next to Dylan. Then she said, “One of the few predictable things about you.”

  Vinnie watched Dylan gobble his treats. He said, “You spoil that cat.”

  “I know.”

  “So what did the distinguished Mr. Evans want?” Vinnie asked. He pulled open the refrigerator, frowning as he looked inside. “No beer?”

  “I don’t drink beer. Drink a flavored water. It’s better for you anyway.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Where did I go wrong with you?”

  “I think it was that whole thing about being myself, no matter what.”

  “I taught you that?”

  “You did.”

  Vinnie shook his head. “What was I thinking?” He grabbed a bottle from the refrigerator and read the label. “Dragonfruit?”