“He’s been pissing blood for two days. I see it when I help him to the bathroom.”

“Bright red or pink?”

She glanced toward Art’s room, worried.

“Pink, I think. It was red, but now not so much. Is that good?”

“Better than red, but not good. Whatever they broke is healing, but he’s still in the weeds.”

She crossed her arms again, and her eyes hardened.

“I wish I had been here. I found him the next morning, when it was too late.”

“They would have hurt you, too.”

The black eyes met his.

“You think? Maybe I would have shot them to death.”

The eyes moved back to the hall, but lost none of their heat.

“I would have called the police, but he wouldn’t let me. Not even the ambulance. Stupid fool, worried about their trust.”

“Talk to him, Marisol.”

“About what?”

“I want Miguel.”

“What do you think, they send Christmas cards? Art doesn’t know where he lives. Maybe where he grew up, but Miguel left us years ago. He is an executive now. He’s better than us.”

Pike sensed something beyond the disdain in her voice, and noticed a discoloration at the corner of her eye. He looked more closely, and saw the skin on her neck mottled from a trip to the laser, not unlike the fading he had seen on Miguel Azzara.

Pike heard the counselor on the roof. Chipping the tile.

“Were you Malevos?”

She stood taller, a neighborhood girl who grew up in the gangs.

“A different set, but Trece. Myself and my brother. He was killed.”

Maybe I would have taken a gun and shot them to death.

“Do you know Miguel?”

She glanced away, back down the hall toward Artie.

“Once. Not anymore.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“Once.”

“I need to find him. For my friends, and for Art.”

She nodded, but it took her a while to speak.

“Maybe. I know girls who know him. They’ve been to his fancy new house.”

She glanced away, and Pike wondered if one of those girls was her.

Marisol made a call, and a few minutes later Pike had an address. He stopped at the door as he was leaving.

“Watch his temperature. If his temperature climbs, I’ll bring a doctor whether he wants one or not.”

“He doesn’t want to pay. He won’t say that, but I know. His money pays for Angel Eyes, and there is never enough. He’s always behind.”

“Don’t worry about the money. I’ll pay.”

“He won’t let you.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

She crossed her arms again, but it was not as angry as before. Pike listened to the counselor on the roof, chipping the tile, trying to make the roof stronger.

Chapter 33

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