“Why don’t you go to the police?”

“You guys are no fun at all!” echoed from downstairs, accompanied by giggling.

She made him look at her. “Ralf, you’re having to pay a debt you don’t owe. It’s bullshit.”

Ralf was silent. Her indignation was as genuine as her anger before, in Sara’s parents’ room. He wondered how close she had been to Brian. Did she really understand whom she’d been dating?

Ralf stood up and helped Naomi to her feet.

“Seriously, why don’t you go to the police?” she insisted.

“Because I haven’t always played by the rules myself either,” he murmured.

17

17

Lex walked beside Helen through the narrow downtown streets, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. The closer they came to the dimly lit parking structure, the less either of them spoke.

Inside the structure, he waited while she paid before escorting her up the steps. Halfway between the staircase and her car, he stopped. “OK. I guess I’ll be on my way.”

Helen turned to face him. “I had fun tonight,” she said, but “fun” scarcely covered it. It was the best evening she’d had in years. She had felt loved, attractive, desired—feminine.

“So, you two are leaving for England early tomorrow?” He looked to one side and feigned nonchalance, but his eyes told a different story.

She nodded.

“Looking forward to it?”

Less than I was yesterday. “A lot.”

“Good.” He focused his eyes on a point at the other end of the parking lot. It was as if he still had something important he wanted to say or do, and was carefully considering how to go about it.

For a few seconds, they stood there in silence.

“Good,” he repeated. “So I’ll see you . . . ?”

“Wednesday at work.”

“Until then.” He leaned forward and quickly planted a kiss on her cheek, close to her ear. “Good night, Helen. Have fun over the next few days. Enjoy it.”

She hurried back to her car and drove toward the exit. When she looked in the rearview mirror, she saw him still standing there in the middle of the parking lot. A tall figure, broad shoulders, his eyes following her car.

She suppressed the impulse to hit the brakes and turn around. As she steered the Fiat through the darkened streets, her vision grew blurred. She dabbed tears from the corners of her eyes with her ring finger. Pointless. They kept coming.

18

18

His balaclava was itchy, and the gun felt heavy in his hand. Once this shit was behind him, he was going to sign those forms and take that course his mother had talked about. Whatever it was.

He was done with all this, at any rate. Playing the criminal was fun when everything was going well, but as soon as things went wrong, there was no end to the misery.