“I’m gonna get a car. Don’t do nothin, okay? Just wait here and find something to cover him up with. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

Vera nods but doesn’t move.

Simon opens the back door and once in the alley, breaks into a dead run. It is cool, fifty degrees. Five blocks to Irene’s apartment.

He takes the stairs two at a time and flings the door open.

Irene is asleep on the bed, her arm flung out as if waiting for a transfusion. He sorts through her clothes and then sees her purse on the table. He finds the keys and shakes the purse until four white tabs spill out.

He fills a glass and eases down on the bed. She stirs.

“Hey. Hey. Take these.” She opens her hand and pops them in her mouth.

“Why?” she asks around the water.

“You’re sick. Real sick, you need them.”

This seems to make sense and she collapses back on the pillow.

He pulls into the alley and rushes in the back of the jewelry store. Vera has put her jacket over Lincoln and is stroking his hair.

Simon bends and picks Lincoln up. Except for the blood, he could just be a sleeping child, dream heavy and ready for bed. The body is light and Lincoln puts his arms around Simon’s neck and rests his head against his chest. Vera moves ahead and opens the door and then opens the back door of the Caprice.

“I’m sorry, Simon. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Simon shakes his head. “No, no. It ain’t your fault. It ain’t you. You’ll be all right.”

“I just wanted to pay her back. I didn’t mean for nothin to happen.”

“Nothin’s gonna happen. You’ll be all right.”

He puts Lincoln in the back, his body tightens and he winces. Simon shuts the door and opens the front.

Vera’s arms are crossed and she is shivering. Simon looks at her but doesn’t know what to say.

“Call the police after we leave,” he says finally.

“Jacob.”

Simon looks at her thoughtfully. “Junior.”

“Yeah. We was gonna name him Jacob. Junior.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“He gonna be all right?”

“I’ll tell him when he’s better.”

Vera shivers her arms tighter around herself. “What do I tell the police?”

“Tell them it was me. It was me. It was me and Burt.”

He slams the door and backs out of the alley. Vera pulls the steel door shut behind her.

33

Simon doesn’t waste time. He turns left on Washington and onto 94 West and begins what is to be his last crawl out of the city. He knows he can never go back.