Would he just keep what he’d seen on the videotape a secret?

“Just as I thought.” Kitty’s expression was so smug and triumphant that more than anything in the world, he wanted to wallop her right in the face. “You’d tell him I’m some kind of whore.”

“I don’t think I’d have to tell him anything, Kitty. The tape kind of speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”

She slapped him across the face. The drugs hadn’t dulled the former great athlete’s reflexes. The smack stung, the sound echoing. Kitty started to push past him again. With his cheek reddening, Myron reached out and grabbed her elbow, maybe a little too roughly. She tried to pull away. He tightened the grip, hitting the pressure point. She winced and said, “Ow, that hurts.”

“You all right, ma’am?”

Myron turned. Two men from mall security were there. Myron let go of Kitty’s elbow. Kitty dashed back into the mall. Myron started to follow, but the security guards stood their ground.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Myron told them.

They were too young to truly roll their eyes in the world-weary way such a line deserved, but they tried. “I’m sorry, sir, but we—”

No time to explain. Like a halfback, Myron juked right and then ran past them. “Hey! Stop!”

He didn’t. He sprinted down the corridor. The security guards gave chase. He stopped by the merry-go-round’s cross section, looked left toward Spencer’s Gifts, straight ahead toward Macy’s, right toward Starbucks.

Nothing.

Kitty was gone. Again. But maybe that was better. Maybe it was time to reevaluate, figure out what he should really do here. The security guards caught up to him. One looked ready to make a flying tackle, but Myron raised his hands in surrender.

“It’s over, guys. I’m leaving.”

By now, eight other mall security guards had appeared, but none wanted to create a scene. They escorted him outside of the mall. He slipped into his car. Way to go, Myron, he thought. You really handled that so well. But again, when he took a step back, what was left to do here anyway? He wanted to see his brother, but was it right to force the issue? He had waited sixteen years. He could wait a little more. Forget Kitty. He would try to reach out to Brad via that e-mail address maybe or through their father or something.

Myron’s phone buzzed. He gave the nice security guards a little wave and reached into his pocket. The caller ID read: LEX RYDER.

“Hello?”

“Oh God . . .”

“Lex?”

“Please . . . hurry.” He started sobbing. “Wheeling her out.”

“Lex, calm down.”

“My fault. Oh my God. Suzze . . .”

“What about Suzze?”

“You should have left it alone.”

“Is Suzze okay?”

“Why didn’t you just leave it alone?”