Herschel leaned closer. “Because I have one piece of advice for you, pal: Keep your mouth shut. Don’t discuss this with anyone. If the subject comes up, you button your lip. You’re a deaf-mute. You no speaka da language. Are you hearing me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The doctor’s talking about releasing you tomorrow morning—”

“So soon?”

“They need the bed. I’ll see if I can talk the cops into waiting until you’re home to take you into custody. Otherwise, they’ll arrest you right here, handcuff you to the rail, and post a cop outside the door. Whichever way it goes, remember these two words. Shut. Up.”

Walker shook his head, saying “Shit” under his breath.

“In the meantime, you’d be smart to put yourself in rehab, at least make a show of cleaning up your act.”

“I can’t go into rehab. I have a family to support.”

“AA, then. Three meetings a week minimum, daily if it comes down to it. I want you to look like a guy renouncing his sins and repenting his evil ways.”

“Are you going to get me out of this mess?”

“Probably not, but I’m the best hope you have,” Herschel said. “If it’s any comfort, you won’t go to trial for another three to six months. Speaking of which, I need a check.”

“How much?”

“Twenty grand for starters. Once we get to court, we’re talking twenty-five hundred dollars a day, plus the cost of expert witnesses.”

Walker kept his expression neutral, not wanting to give Herschel the satisfaction of seeing his dismay. “I’ll have to move money over from savings. I don’t keep cash like that in my checking account. Can it wait until I get out?”

“Have Carolyn take care of it. Nice seeing you.”

Chapter 13 - Monday, April 11, 1988

13

Monday, April 11, 1988

Peephole, California, is essentially two blocks long and ten blocks wide, a stone’s throw from the Pacific Ocean. A Southern Pacific Railroad track runs parallel to the 101, separating the town from the beach. A tunnel runs under both the train tracks and the highway, making it possible to reach the water if you’re willing to walk hunched over through a damp and moldy-smelling fifty yards of culvert. At the northernmost end of town there’s a banana farm. The only other businesses are a service station selling no-name gas and a fresh-produce stand that’s closed for most of the year.