All was dark as interstellar space beyond the desiccated plants. Not even stars glowing.

But this was the address he’d given her, and it was called Julio’s…

Alicia stepped back and scanned the street. She’d taken a cab up so she hadn’t had much opportunity to see if that gray sedan was following her again. She didn’t see it on the street now. Maybe it was all in her mind.

And maybe she shouldn’t even bother with this Jack. She didn’t want to go through another explanation of the whole situation, tiptoeing among the details she could reveal and the ones she couldn’t. And then face the questions… the inevitable questions.

Because to someone who didn’t know what she knew, her actions appeared completely irrational. Thomas was the only other living person who had all the facts, and even he thought she was crazy.

She couldn’t answer those questions. And so she had to settle for people thinking she was nuts.

Did she want to add Just Jack to that list?

Not really. But she had nowhere else to turn right now, and she had a feeling Just Jack was the sort who struck straight to the heart of a problem. She’d obtained a medical report on the thief who’d stolen the toys. The cops hadn’t been exaggerating. He’d been thoroughly worked over… numerous fractures, countless contusions. Which told her that Just Jack was not adverse to the judicious application of force.

And after seeing what had happened to Leo Weinstein, that might be just what she needed.

But the possibility that she might be setting him up to end like poor Leo made her hesitate.

She’d looked for other options, but Just Jack seemed the best right now. She was sick to death of anything related to the will and the house, and yesterday she’d flashed on a way to clean up the whole mess. But it was not something a lawyer could handle. She was pretty sure it might be in Jack’s line of work.

But did she have the guts to ask him?

Taking a deep breath, Alicia settled her nerves, pulled on the door handle, and stepped inside.

As she waited for her eyes to adjust, she heard the buzz of conversation wither and die… just like the plants in the window.

Slowly, the room came into focus. First, the TV screen, playing what looked like ESPN or one of its clones, then the neon beer signs—Bud, Rolling Rock, and Miller only, no Bass Ale or Zima here—glowing behind the bar, reflecting off the bottles lined up like wishes on the mirrored shelves. A sign over the bar, dark letters carved into light wood… FREE BEER TOMORROW…

And then the patrons, half a dozen grizzled men leaning against the bar, beers and boilermakers before them, all turned her way, staring.

What was this? A gay bar? Never seen a woman in here before?

“You here to see Jack, right?”

Alicia looked down at the short, heavily muscled Hispanic who’d materialized out of the dark. He had a pencil-line mustache and black, wavy, slicked-back hair. His voice was low, his dark eyes bright and active.