“You think I could have been a criminal . . . you know, like a thief on the run . . . before?”

“A criminal?” His eyes drifted shut. “That Peeto’s idea, too?”

“No, no. Just exploring all options.”

“Well, leave that one where you found it, okay?”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause you’re the straightest, most trustworthy person I know.”

A sure sign he was down and desperate, if he was giving out compliments. “Really?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

After that, I’d never be able to tell him what I’d done.

Around the dim-lit room, huddles were stirring. Sodden pickers struggling to their feet, testing stiff or injured limbs, peering out at the waning storm. Reluctant to go back out in it, eager to be home.

I roused Rubio from his daze. The sooner I got him to the medics, the better. “The worst has passed. Can you make it home?”

“Do I have a choice?”

SIXTEEN

The walkways mercifully held for our struggle home, the raw sea fountaining up between the floor slats and the wind several times knocking us flat. I was desperate for a quick meal and a retreat to my bunk for a long, slow think. But it was not to be.

Unca Joe was in an uproar.

Our boats were upside down on the front walk, lashed to the railings. An old windmill had toppled off the far side of Third Avenue, crushing our downtown approach. A crew was braving the tail of the storm to scavenge useful metal parts, scrambling over the huge trusses while waves broke around them and the long vanes rocked in the gusts. Entertaining on another sort of day, and Rubio, the rain still washing red down his cheeks and ribs, would’ve stayed to watch.

I tugged on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s get you stitched up.”

“It’s mostly surface.”

“But what if it isn’t?” I gripped him harder. “Besides, no way you’re hiding out in your bunk, getting all infected ’cause some dumb kids got the drop on you.”

He didn’t have the piss left to argue.

The mudroom was a foot deep in churning water, boiling up through the open shaft from the flooded water gate. In Main, the furniture was up on the counters. Shadows shoved past in the pale glow of emergency lights, ferrying goods up to the next floor. Rousseau’s voice boomed orders and encouragement.

I hadn’t expected chaos at home. As I stood taking it in, some guy rushed up and pushed a large box at me.

“Take this up!” He’d gone back for more before I could tell who it was.

I staggered under the sudden weight, finally on the road to total overwhelm. Seemed to be happening a lot lately.

Rubio grabbed one end of the box. “I’ll get it.”

“No . . .”

“Hey, you look worse than I do.”