There’s a fumbling sound on the phone and then Frankie says, “Chica, we gotta talk about your sense of timing.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Go have sexy time. I can—”

Frankie sighs dramatically. “Caesar already grabbed his laptop. What do you need, a number?”

“I need to call Peaches.” My cheeks are still burning, but I press on. “One of his people is talking to the feds, and I think I know who. Just please find me a number and then you two go at it.”

“Don’t worry, we will.”

“Seriously, I’m sorry.”

“You sound cute when you apologize. You should do it more often.”

“Admit mistakes? Like asking Caesar to program Samuel L. Jackson’s voice into your car?”

“Eres un pinche lata.”

“Been called worse.”

“We’ll send you a number.”

“Kisses,” I say brightly, but he’s already hung up.

The evening deepens. I can hear the traffic on Northside a block away, but on this side of the block are a vacant lot and a graffiti-tagged brick warehouse and some bungalows with overgrown yards. In the middle of the vacant lot across from me, a tiny light winks on, then off. Another answers it. Lightning bugs. When I was a kid, seeing lightning bugs meant summer had truly started. I watch the lightning bugs wink on and off, floating in the gloom.

In the distance a dog barks, deep and gruff, a warning to passersby—this is my yard. I hope Wilson didn’t pee inside Ethan’s house. I wonder if Ethan is home or if he stayed at the hospital. I’m betting on the latter. My brother always seems to know the right thing to do in situations like that. I usually figure out what I should have done after the fact.

My phone dings and I look down at the screen. Caesar has texted me a phone number. I text him back an eggplant emoji, then add another one before I call the number. It picks up on the second ring.

“Who is this?” Peaches says.

“Acetaminophen,” I answer.

Peaches barely pauses. “Doctor Woman. How you get this number?”

“D is your mole,” I say. “Or he’s lying about the A/C at the motel.”

“Hold on,” Peaches says. The phone goes silent but the call is still connected. I sit on my bike and watch the lightning bugs wink on and off in the darkness.

Peaches comes back on the line. “You got one minute.”

“You said D told you he sabotaged the A/C in the motel room by cutting a wire or a hose outside the room, right?”

Pause. “Yeah.”

“A/C units in motels are all inside the rooms. They’re self-contained, you can’t reach them from outside the room.”

Longer pause. “The feds in that room called the manager to say the A/C was broken.”

I nod encouragingly, even though Peaches can’t see me. “Which means—”