“That’s the tricky part, Devin, and it’s never a clear path,” said Berg. “It’s why I need you to trust me enough to do this my way no matter what your gut is telling you.”

“My mom trusted you—so I trust you,” said Devin.

Berg nodded. “Then I better not let her down.”

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 23

Marnie Young left her parents’ house a little after 6:15 to meet with the owner of the town house she had rented in the Canton District of Baltimore. The owner agreed to meet her at 8:00 p.m. to walk her through the place and give her the keys.

Devin said he’d arrive around nine with an “associate” to check the place out and pay her for the two weeks she’d fronted. Finding a thirty-day rental in the city for twelve occupants, in a good neighborhood, hadn’t left her with any bargain-basement options—especially at the start of the summer. Four hundred and fifty a night, with a two-week deposit, had been the best she could manage, which didn’t seem to faze him in the least.

The rest of his new associates would supposedly arrive later that night. She still had no idea what he meant by “associates,” or what he was up to, but she was determined to find out. They had concluded that she wasn’t under surveillance, which had been a huge relief. She’d packed an overnight bag and had every intention of sticking around until she could fully assess Devin’s mental state and determine how she could help. He’d probably argue with her, but she didn’t care. That was what friends did for each other, and unless her status as a friend had lapsed in his mind, which she highly doubted for a number of reasons, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

She also wanted to take a good look at these so-called associates, to make sure Devin was acting in his own best interest—or his own interest at all. She’d stuffed her pistol and a few spare magazines in the overnight bag, just in case. Devin simply didn’t sound like himself. He’d looked shaken and dazed at his mother’s funeral, which was to be expected, but something was really off with him right now. He sounded rushed and unfocused. Or maybe unfocused wasn’t the right word. Scripted? There was no real way to tell over the phone, which was why she’d insisted on handing over the keys in person and sticking around for a while.