“Stinks,” Kitty muttered, pulling her T-shirt up over her mouth and nose. It was the smell of human waste, uncleanliness, and airlessness. It grew thicker as they descended. Luke felt a wave of revulsion and sadness, but these were obscured by a more aggressive rush of feelings. The idea that he was within moments of seeing Lisa was too huge to grasp. He stood in its shadow, waiting for it to either topple and crush him, or provide elevation to the top.

The main basement room was large and windowless. Luke took in certain details—cockroaches skittering across a cracked linoleum floor, water dripping from an overhead pipe—at the same time as he noticed the four women. They were drab-faced and pale, dressed in loose clothes, their hair long and dirty. One slept on a pile of laundry in the corner. Two were slumped across a stained green sofa, watching a Friends rerun on an old TV. The other woman sat at a small table, weighing yellow powder on a precision scale. She wore latex gloves and her red hair was pulled into a tight ponytail—minor hygiene considerations in an otherwise filthy environment.

Lisa was not among them.

Three Latinas and a redhead. Ghosts, all of them, void of life and reaction. The redhead glanced up as Kitty approached the table. She tilted one eyebrow, then went back to her work. This was the only acknowledgment of their presence.

“Jesus, Luke,” Kitty said, grabbing a half-pound baggie of yellow powder and holding it up for him to see. “This is canary. Now we know the connection to Johan. This is his manufacturer.”

“You know Johan?” Ramón asked, then sneered. “Anything happens to me, or this operation, he’ll kill you.”

“I’ve got enough dirt to bury that motherfucker twice,” Luke said, and slotted the barrel of the gun into the hollow at the back of Ramón’s neck. “Now where’s my fucking wife?”

That was when a door behind Luke opened and a heartbreakingly familiar voice said, “There you are.”

23
City Woman Dreamin’

Luke met Lisa at the Melody Bar & Grill, and their first date had been at Taix a week later. He thought he’d fallen in love with her that night; Luke had pushed the boat all the way out—champagne, rack of lamb, a variety of delicious hors d’oeuvres—after which Lisa had smiled appreciatively and said, “Nice, Luke, real nice, but now take me to a place where they serve nasty cocktails and play loud music.” The mischievous little wink she’d offered made Luke wonder if this sweet Black angel had fallen unto him from the heavens.

He truly, unquestionably fell in love with her four months later, in a way that made him realize that he hadn’t, until then, known what love was.