Zack pounds on the door to Steve’s crummy walk-up apartment.

No doorman, no neighbors around that Zack can see.

Since Joey’s break-in, Steve’s got so many new locks and so much hi-tech security on the place that Zack knows there’s no way he can get inside.

There’s no getting in from the fire escape either, he’s sure, but he can at least go up and, if the shade’s not down all the way, look in.

He’s never been on a fire escape. He steps tentatively onto it, a rickety, skeletal structure, and tests the sturdiness of its metal side rails, watching each step as he goes, but the anxiety and urgency he feels about his missing friend propel him upward quickly. He’s as nervous about being seen by some terrified or outraged neighbor as he is about the safety of the structure.

In a minute, he’s at Steve’s window. The shade is only partly down. He kneels carefully on the metal step and cups his face against the window glass. He can see the apartment’s empty. Bed unmade. Dishes in the sink. He knows where Steve keeps the handgun, by the bed, but he can’t tell from this angle if it’s there or not.

Steve’s not dead in there, at least. Thank God.

Suddenly, a text…

Dude, my camera’s showing that you’re trying to check on me. I’m FINE…

Zack texts back to Steve immediately. Worried, man. You’re not about to do something stupid???

He waits for a response. There is none.

Where are you, Steve??

Nothing. A pointed, purposeful nothing. And then: I’ve got to do this, Zack. Don’t look for me.

Oh Christ.

Where? Where in the city would he be looking for Joey? Zack’s dumb off-the-rack disposable phone doesn’t have a friend-finder program loaded onto it. He should have insisted on getting one with Steve, who maybe would have consented to it earlier.

To find Steve and stop him from doing something to Joey, he’ll have to find Joey. In a city of millions, how is he ever going to find Joey? Find him fast?

One way.

He still has the business card that had been pushed into his palm. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call. He quickly dials the number. “Detective Lopez? It’s Zack Yellin.”

“Zack Yellin,” the voice says warmly, “I’ve actually been thinking about you and your girlfriend since that crazy verdict, but I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Thanks,” says Zack.

“I did check to make sure the police are keeping an eye on you. How are you?”

“Not so good, Detective. You remember my friend Steve?”

“Of course I do. Poor kid. How’s he doing?”