Against the protests of the patrons, at eleven p.m., the TV in Raymond’s Tavern is turned to CNN. On the screen, a blond reporter is standing in a parking lot. Behind her, bright lights illuminate a high brick wall topped with razor wire. The reporter adjusts her earpiece and speaks into a mic.

“From the White House to the Big House—that’s been Cole Wright’s trajectory over the past nine months. The man convicted of second-degree murder is currently being held here in Rockingham County Jail. But it’s as yet unknown where he’ll serve out his sentence. One thing’s for sure—he won’t be spending any time in a country-club prison. Back to you, Kelly.”

The camera cuts back to a woman at the anchor desk. Tony Romero picks up the remote from the backbar and switches to a football game. Cheers of approval from the patrons.

Tony holds up his hands. “Hey, you morons gotta follow the news once in a while! Learn something about the world!”

In truth, Tony couldn’t be happier.

The reporter who was trailing him is dead. Ditto Amber Keenan. Amalfi and his goons are gone too. And now he has the ultimate karmic revenge.

Suzanne had told Tony she was pregnant with his baby. But she didn’t want his kind of life. She wanted to raise the baby with her new boyfriend, Cole Wright, the fancy Pats player. Tony couldn’t take the disrespect. He flipped out. Strangled Suzanne to death. Wrapped her up in the sheets he found in her car. Buried her in the park and had the car chopped up for parts. Later, he added the watch Pearce gave him to the grave site. Serves Cole right for trying to steal his girl—and his baby. Tony didn’t do the grunt work himself. He had other people do it for him. Then he got rid of those people.

Romero turns to a heavyset man standing at the end of the bar. “Close up for me, Dino.” He points a finger at him. “And keep your hands out of the cash register.”

Dino gives him a crooked smile and a nod.

Tony’s tired. He doesn’t feel like making small talk with the patrons in the front room tonight. He walks into the corridor and heads to the back exit. Easy way out.

He pushes the metal door open. A blinding light hits his face.

“What the f—”

“Put your hands up and kneel down!”

Tony kneels and squints through the glare. He sees figures coming toward him, weapons drawn. Cops! One of them lifts him up and pins his arms behind his back. Another starts patting his beltline.

“Gun!”

The cop pulls out the compact Ruger and holds it up by the trigger guard. Tony feels more hands on his chest, his legs, his crotch. “Clean!” another cop shouts.