The police. I had one small chip left to play. “MacLeish told me that the St. Leo turns over the security tapes tomorrow. Going back months. You were there with her, Lou. Remember? If I go down for this, you do, too. But we could still go. Start over somewhere new. Let’s go, please let’s just go.”

For the first time, a small shadow passed over Lou’s face, and then she shook it off, her cheeks creasing in dimples. “Looks like Mr. Alibi will be coming in handy for more than an alibi,” she said with a wink. “Tapes get erased all the time.”

I gagged on the taste of gin still in my mouth. I’d never drink gin again after this, I promised myself, after this very moment I was done with juniper, Lou was right, it did taste like Christmas tree piss. My vision was pinwheeling to a small point, like Lou was the only thing I could see. I couldn’t stand to look at that face, that beautiful, terrible face.

Lou took another drag of the cigarette, shrugged. That same little smile. “Not so tough now,” she said.

I took a breath and forced myself to take another one, and another. I nodded and nodded and nodded, and then I swung the gun up from behind me and pointed it at her face. She froze. “Move, Lou. Get out of my way.”

That got a reaction from her, finally. “Put the gun down, Jo. It’s too late.” But her face was pale, the freckles bright against her nose. She took one small step toward me, still between me and the door. “Jo, listen to me.”

I’d never held a gun before. The metal was slick against my palms, which were sweating, and I had the urge to tap the trigger just to make sure it really worked.

“Put it down,” Lou said, taking another step toward me.

“Stop it,” I warned, but she moved another step closer. I flinched and gripped the gun with both hands. She put her hands up, but she took another step. Lou’s face was soft again, and if I let myself, I could almost believe that she hadn’t really meant everything she’d said, that she was only scared. I could understand that. Anyone could.

“Think this through,” she said. “The police will be here any minute. Would you really shoot me?”

I’d been trying to avoid asking myself that question since I’d grabbed the gun. She didn’t want to go back to the streets. I could still leave tonight, go to Palm Springs without her.

It wouldn’t take MacLeish more than twenty minutes, tops, to get to her place, less if he was speeding, and at least ten, maybe fifteen had passed since she’d called them. If they got here, it would be her word against mine. A coin toss.