“I don’t know! I swear.”

Someone in the park had probably heard the gunshot. Neck Tattoo might come back with reinforcements. Either way, Myron had very little time here. He had to show he meant business. With a small sigh, Myron began to pull the trigger—he was that far gone—when a moment of common sense pushed through. Even if he could do it—even if he could shoot an unarmed, helpless man—the result of the shot would probably backfire on him. The pain would more likely make Goatee pass out or go into shock than get him to open up.

Still Myron wasn’t sure what he would do when he said, “Last chance . . .”

Goatee came to the rescue. “His name is Bert! That’s all I know. Bert!”

“Last name?”

“I don’t know! Kevin set it up.”

“Who’s Kevin?”

“The guy who just left me here, man.”

“And what did Bert want you to do?”

“We followed you, man. From the hospital. He said you’d lead us to Kitty Bolitar.”

Man, now Myron really knew that he was slipping. These two numb nuts had been behind him this whole time and Myron never spotted the tail? Pathetic. “And when you found Kitty, what were you supposed to do?”

Goatee started crying again. “Please.”

Myron put the gun against the man’s head. “Look at my eyes.”

“Please.”

“Stop crying and look at my eyes.”

He finally did. He was sniffling, trying to hold it together. His knee was a mess. Myron knew that he would probably never walk again without a limp. One day, that might bother Myron, but he doubted it.

“Tell me the truth and this is all over. You probably won’t even have to go to jail. Lie to me and I shoot you in the head, so there’s no witness. Do you understand?”

He kept his eyes surprisingly steady. “You’re going to kill me anyway.”

“No, I’m not. You know why? Because I’m still the good guy here. I want to stay that way. So just tell me the truth and save us: What were you supposed to do when you found Kitty?”

And then, with sirens signaling the approach of police cars, Goatee gave Myron the answer he expected: “We were supposed to kill you both.”

Myron opened the trailer door. The sirens were louder now.

There was no time for Myron to get to his car. He ran left, away from the Glendale Estates entrance, as two police cars came into the trailer park. A powerful beacon of light from one of the cop cars hit him.

“Stop! Police!”