“Is Ruben with her?’

“She’s alone. And working.”

“You’re thinking surprise visit?”

“Popping in during business hours might make her more forthcoming.”

We both smiled, then I started toward the door. Halfway there, a hand caught my arm. I turned.

Ollie was wearing that face men don when they’re about to go macho.

“You often think about”—he gestured from his chest to mine—“us?”

“Never.”

“Sure you do.”

“There was no,” I hooked finger quotes, “us.”

“We had a hell of a time.”

“Mostly you were a jerk.”

“I was young.”

“And now you’re a wise old sage.”

“People change.”

“You got a girlfriend, Ollie?”

“Not currently.”

“Why’s that?”

“Haven’t found the right one.”

“The love of your life.”

Ollie shrugged.

“We should go,” I said.

“Don’t want to keep Detective Douchebag waiting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The guy’s not the best company.”

“You deliberately provoke him.”

“He’s an asshole.”

“Ollie.” I drilled him with a look that said I meant business. “Did you discuss”—I mimicked his gesture—“us with Detective Ryan?”

“I may have mentioned that I knew you.” The flicker in his gaze was all the tell I needed.

“You unprincipled bastard.”

Before I could react, Ollie pulled me close and pinned my body to his chest. “When we wrap this up, you know you’re going to want me,” he whispered in my ear.

Pushing hard with both palms, I disengaged. “Never gonna happen.”

I whipped around, hot-wired with revulsion.

Ryan was standing outside the door, staring in through the glass. In the garish neon, his face looked drawn and gaunt.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Uncertain how much he’d seen, I gave a thumbs-up and smiled brightly. Good news!

Ryan walked into the shadows, features so tight, they looked painted on his bones.

OLLIE DROVE. I RODE SHOTGUN. RYAN SAT IN BACK.

A light rain had begun to fall. As we wound through the city, a kaleidoscope of blurred color and shadow slipped past my window. The wipers beat a slow metronome on the windshield.

Ten minutes out, Ollie turned onto a street lined with bars, strip clubs, and fast-food joints, all lit and open for business. Fragmented neon glistened on the pavement and splashed across signs, cars, and taxis.

A few small businesses elbowed for position: an auto supply outfit, a pawnshop, a liquor store. Their windows were dark and barred against vandalism and theft.

A handful of men in sweatshirts and windbreakers moved in both directions, heads down, shoulders hunched. Here and there smokers lingered in doorways, enduring the wind and damp for a nicotine fix.

Ollie pulled to the curb in front of a two-story brick building with XXX Adult Store painted on one side. In addition to the world’s largest collection of movies and images, the enterprise offered twenty-five-cent peep shows twenty-four/seven.

“Your heart’s desire right here, for a price.” Ollie swept a hand across the squalid scene around us. “Drugs. Women. Boys. Weapons. You want a hit man, you can probably find that, too.”