I was going to kill Froehmer. He might try to get me first, or rather, have someone else come after me. Or he might continue on with me, the way he always had, continuing to use me for whatever he needed, however he needed it. Maybe he’d offer me Mobley’s old spot. Isn’t that how you got ahead in this fucked-up world? I’m sure Froehmer would have it figured out before I did. He had me in a box he thought I couldn’t escape. Maybe I would go on the way I always did, doing whatever Froehmer told me to do. What else was I going to do? I didn’t know where it was all going, or how long it would take. But I knew I would kill him.

I walked back toward the car up ahead. I could see Casey sitting in the passenger seat, waiting. Her silhouette, the dark outline of her head, for a second looked almost like Frank. It could have been any number of times, any number of jobs, with me walking back to the car, with Frank waiting. How many times had it happened? How many times had I walked back with something under my arm, in my coat, in a bag? Nothing for us, but all of it going to Froehmer. Every single time. Everything for Froehmer.

But this time was different. This time, the last time, I wouldn’t have anything. Nothing. This time I’d get in and he’d say, “What happened? You put it back?” I put it back. The way I would have if he had asked. I would have taken it back; I would have taken it back immediately. All he had to do was ask. Only he didn’t. He decided he’d take it back. And now he wasn’t waiting.

A car came up the street and I kept my eyes forward and the headlights lit up Casey’s face. I got in the driver’s seat and for the first time thought there was more blood than before. It seemed like it was everywhere.

“I think you better drive,” I said.

Casey must have shot me by accident. A slug must have passed through Mobley and went into my shoulder. Or else a round ricocheted off the floor. It didn’t matter how it got there; I had a bullet in me and I was going to have to get it out. I couldn’t go to a hospital, but I couldn’t go on much longer the way I was either. I pulled my jacket off the shoulder and felt for the spot. Blood was all over the place.

“Did I do that?” Casey said.

“No,” I told her “Mobley. I think it’s bad.”