I exhaled, staring over at the rubble across the street that used to be the Golden Oaks.

Four nights ago I’d ordered a beer like this one as a prop. I’d committed myself to never drinking again and sat here, a PBR in front of me for a half hour until Remy showed.

And it could happen, I thought. I could stay sober.

I’d been dry since May, after all.

But I felt the old warning light go on, and I didn’t care. I knew that when that light flashed, there was no stopping for anything except violence or the type of sleep that others call unconsciousness. I could see the self-loathing out there on the pink of the horizon, and I welcomed it.

I motioned for the waitress, telling her to bring me a double of Dewar’s with two cubes of ice in it.

“You got it, hon,” she said.

Balls on the pool table clinked, and the door chimed. The music changed from something young and poppy to a song by Led Zeppelin. “Kashmir.”

“Jesus, Lena,” I said to a window that was shined so clean all I saw was my own reflection. “The only type of woman I can fall for is a friggin’ criminal. That’s how shitty my brain works since you’ve been gone.”

Outside, cars passed and sirens wailed. The numbered streets were never gonna change.

“And now I got played by Monroe,” I said. “And I got no idea what to do about it.”

I saw a glass arrive beside me, but it didn’t look like Dewar’s.

“Your buddy settled your tab,” the waitress said, picking up my empty beer glass. “He bought this for you.”

The glass held seltzer water, and the buddy, now walking closer, was Darren Gattling, in full uniform.

I eyed him, and he put his hands up, palms out.

“I don’t want trouble, P.T.,” he said. “But I can call a bunch of cops to help me get you outta here if I have to. Remy told me you might come here. After this mess with Kelly.”

Kelly.

This wasn’t even about her.

“Can you drive?” he asked.

“I’ve had twelve ounces of beer so far. So I’d say yeah. But why don’t you get the hell out of here, Darren. Go back to your shift.”

He lifted up his walkie. “Like I said, I can call others. I got a lotta friends in patrol.”

I stared at Gattling.

I knew why he had been moved to the night shift. It was because he’d agreed to help out with my undercover sting at Tandy’s and had been unlucky enough to have that kid die in his arms. I had messed with Gattling’s career, and he never said a bad word to me about it.

I stood up and passed him, walking toward the exit.

“I’ll follow you home,” he said. “Make sure you don’t stop at a liquor store along the way.”

I got in my truck, and Gattling got in his black and white.