I don't know, Starkey. That doesn't sound like Byrd.

Starkey shrugged, then looked at the canyon again.

I'm just sayin', is all. I'm not trying to convince you.

I know. I didn't take it that way.

Whatever this jackhole did or however he was involved, you need to understand you aren't responsible for his crimes. You played it straight up and did your job. Don't eat yourself up about it.

I met Carol Starkey when Lou Poitras brought her to my house because a boy named Ben Chenier was missing. Starkey helped find him, and the friendship we developed during the search grew. A few months later, a man named Frederick Reinnike shot me, and Starkey visited me regularly at the hospital. We had been building a history, and the friendship that grew with it made me smile.

I ever thank you for coming to the hospital all those times?

She flushed.

I was just trying to score with Pike.

Well, thanks anyway.

She kept her eyes on the canyon.

Hear much from the lawyer?

The lawyer. Now I turned toward the canyon, too. Once upon a time I shared my life with a lawyer from Louisiana named Lucy Chenier. Ben was her son. Lucy and Ben had moved to L.A., but after what happened to Ben they returned to Louisiana and now we lived apart. I wondered what Lucy would think of Lionel Byrd, and was glad she didn't know.

I said, Not so much. They're getting on with their lives.

How's the boy?

He's good. Growing. He sends me these letters.

Starkey suddenly pushed from the rail.

How about we go somewhere? Let's hit the Dresden for a few drinks.

You don't drink.

I can watch. I'll watch you drink while you watch me smoke. How about it?

Maybe another time. I want to catch the news about Byrd.

She stepped back again and raised her hands.

Okay. I got it.

We stood like that for a moment before she smiled.

I gotta get outta here anyway. Hot date and all.

Sure.

Listen

Her face softened, then she lifted my hand, turned it palm up, and touched the hard line of tissue that ran across four fingers and most of the palm, cut when I was fighting to save Ben Chenier's life.

You think you have scars, mister?

She touched the side of my chest where Reinnike put me in the hospital with a 12-gauge shotgun. Number-four buckshot and two surgeries later.

Starkey smiled.

You oughta see my fuckin' scars, Cole. I got you beat all to hell.

The bomb that killed her in a trailer park.

She dropped my hand.

Don't watch the news, man. Just forget it.

Sure.

You're not going to forget it.

No.

Maybe that's why I love you.

She punched me in the chest and walked out of my house.

That Starkey is something.