When we’d hung up I stood in the middle of the room with my hands pressed against my head, trying to keep the boiling inside from spilling out through my temples. I could not stay in this apartment one more minute, that much was certain. Randomly stuffing clothes into an overnight bag, along with an extra clip, I headed downstairs. I’d take the el out to O’Hare and get on the first plane I came to with a spare seat.

I thought about sneaking past Mr. Contreras’s place on the way out, but decided that would really be unfair to the old man. I needn’t have worried about it: he had the door open before I reached the bottom of the stairs.

He surveyed me with his hands on his hips. “So you went and got yourself pushed into the San, huh? After letting me think you was just going off to lay low for a few days. I can’t take too many more nights like last one, and that’s a fact. Don’t think I’m gonna apologize for getting that Sergeant Rawlings to go back into your place, because I’m not. If you can’t share your plans with anyone, least I can do is get the cops to look after you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your care. Although I slept until noon without knowing there was a cop on my couch, I’m sure the subliminal knowledge was what enabled me to rest.”

He grunted in exasperation. “Oh, don’t go using your tony vocabulary on me. I know you only do it when you’re pissed, but you got no call to be. I’m the one suddenly finding out at five in the morning you almost got yourself killed. Again.”

“Don’t!” I cried more sharply than I’d meant. “I just can’t take any harassment right now.”

He started to expostulate—that I’d have to learn to take it until I could pay attention to how he felt, left alone to worry—but my distress must have been writ large in my face. After a minute he broke off and asked me what the problem was.

I tried to summon a smile. “Rough night last night and too many people on my ass right now.”

“It’d be easier for me not to be one of those people if I knew what you was up to.”