“Come on, pull it together, man, or you’ll be rotting in jail by the end of the day,” the kid said impatiently.

“I wouldn’t harm my daughter, and I would’ve granted my wife a divorce.”

“Really? Given up this house, prime real estate in Southie?”

“Money is not an issue for us.”

“You’re loaded, then? Even more moola to have to surrender.”

“Money is not an issue for us.”

“That’s crap. Money is an issue for everyone. Now you do sound guilty.”

“My wife is the mother of my daughter,” Jason found himself saying testily. “If we did separate, I would want her to have the resources necessary to take care of my child.”

“Wife, child, wife, child. You’re depersonalizing them. Claiming to love them so much you’d never harm ’em, but on the other hand, you can’t even bring yourself to call them by name.”

“Stop it. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Did you kill your wife?”

“Get out. Leave me alone.”

“You’re right. I’m outta here. I’ve only spoken with you eight minutes, and I already think you’re guilty as hell. But hey, that means I got nothing to worry about. So see ya.”

Kid headed for the fence. He already had his hands curled around the wooden slats, preparing to lift himself up and over, when it came to Jason, the piece he’d been missing since the very beginning.

“You asked if my child was home,” he called out across the yard. “You asked about my child.”

The kid was up now, one leg slung over the fence. Jason started to run toward him.

“Son of a bitch! Your prior. Tell me what you did, tell me exactly what you did!”

Kid paused at the top of the fence. He no longer looked like a golden retriever puppy. Something about his eyes had changed, his expression growing secretive, growing hard. “Don’t need to; you already figured it out.”

“Background check, my ass! You’re a convicted sex offender, aren’t you? Your name is in the fucking sex offender database. They’ll be at your door by two.”

“Yep. But they’ll still be arresting you by three. I didn’t kill your wife. She’s too old for my tastes—”

“Fucking prick!”

“And I know something you don’t know. I heard a car last night. Best I can figure, I saw the vehicle that took your wife away.”

CHAPTER SIX

I fell in love the first time when I was eight years old. The man didn’t actually exist, but was a character on TV: Sonny Crockett, the cop played by Don Johnson on Miami Vice. My mama didn’t hold with such nonsense, so I’d simply wait until she’d pass out cold from the afternoon “ice tea,” then pop open a Dr Pepper and watch the reruns to my heart’s content.