And the courtroom of innocent people he imagines he’s saving? Is he really saving them? Or are they still in a danger that he doesn’t understand?

He knows he can’t run again. It’s time to turn to help. Time to turn to the one person who’s saved him before.

Who saved him from getting shot in the street. Who saved his friend Steve by providing Joey’s address. Who even saved Zack hours of time by giving Zack the password to search police databases.

The guy who’s always been there for him.

He didn’t want to bother Detective Lopez without real evidence, when it was just a crazy assassin with a harebrained story. But now it’s time to reach out to him.

Zack searches once more for Lopez’s card in his wallet.

It’s not there.

He looks through his wallet again carefully. Then frantically. Nothing. Did he lose it when he dialed him last? He was concentrating on the police database password that Lopez was providing—RLopez5570890—trying to commit it to memory. Did he leave the card somewhere on that GreenGirl table? Is it buried somewhere in the messy GreenGirl storage closet?

He needs the card because, being super cautious with Joey’s phone and not really knowing where it might end up, he’s been immediately deleting any calls he makes from the phone’s call log—including the previous call to Lopez.

Lopez’s number is still on Zack’s own dumb disposable phone, of course. Which does Zack no good. Since his own phone is now in Joey’s hands.

Emily doesn’t have Lopez’s number. Neither does Steve. So it does no good to reach out to them, if they would even respond to Zack. Lopez is retired so Zack can’t reach him through a general police department number either. And they’re hardly going to give Lopez’s personal number to Zack if he calls the precinct. He’d have to show up in person, explain, persuade, prove he’s who he says.

He stares at the phone, trying to think through some solution, some way to reach Lopez.

Figure it out. Joey’s hopeful plea comes back to him.

But it turns out time’s up for figuring it out.

And there will be no running or hiding. In fact, quite the opposite.

“Zack Yellin?”

He looks up from where he’s been sitting in the back of a GreenGirl, staring at Joey’s useless phone.

A kid Zack’s age in a white button-down shirt and a thin black tie is hovering over him with a toothy smile.

“Yeah?” says Zack cautiously. Is this a deranged fan? Someone who recognizes him from the news six months ago?

The toothy grin gets toothier. The kid slaps a printed document in front of Zack. “Part two-thirty-one, state of New York versus Joey Richter. Summons to appear tomorrow morning.”