"When I agreed to listen to your music, I had no idea you'd sing at the top of your lungs the whole way over."

"Can you really blame me-"

"Yes."

"-for singing along? Who wouldn't sing along with Marvin?"

Johnny sighed while unbuckling his seatbelt. "Wouldn't be half as bad if you actually could sing."

"So. Rude." Though he was right. I couldn't carry a tune with a bucket.

"And why wasn't the heat on? It's forty degrees."

I looked at him sideways. "Gas ain't cheap. You're wearing a jacket, you won't die."

"I really regret getting in this car." He peered up through the windshield. "Is that the place?"

"Yeah." Karen's trailer was nearly indistinguishable from the others in the dusk of the waning sun. The windows flickered with the blue light of a television. Otherwise, this side of the street was dark and still.

"Does she live alone?"

"I don't know." As I reached for the handle to open the door Johnny did the same. "I thought you were waiting in the car." That earned me a look of exasperation. Apparently, I was being ridiculous.

With that we got out of my car.

Now that the sun was sinking, I better understood the apprehension about this place. School was out. Work was done. And the neighborhood that had been mostly quiet was now alive with activity. Most of it was innocuous chatter from families that was perhaps louder than socially acceptable but familiar at least. The more hazardous element was the gathering of single young men that had chosen to congregate this early Thursday evening to get drunk and do God knows what.

I kept my eyes forward and minded my business. While walking toward the front door, Johnny closed the gap between us and stood so close to my side people could have easily confused him for my boyfriend. Which was unfortunate as he'd decided to wear his frumpiest mismatched winter wear today.

After knocking on the door, I stuffed my bare hands back into the pockets of my coat. A chill had decided to linger over the city today. Mother Nature's little reminder that it was winter and not yet spring despite the sixty-degree weather earlier this week. A shiver cut through me and I opted to zip my jacket all the way up rather than continue to be cute.

I looked over at Johnny. The wind picked up and he shuddered beneath his thin jacket. I felt a pang of guilt and looked away. I'd only wanted to save money when I'd chosen not to turn on the heat in the car, but I only now noticed how much lighter his jacket was compared to mine. Memo to myself: Be more considerate of others. Especially Frumpenstein and his sad, thin coats.

From where I stood, I could hear the muffled voices of some sort of tv program coming from inside. Whoever was watching it shuffled back and forth before finally standing and scuffling toward the door. Karen opened it with a flourish then frowned when she saw it was me.

"Ah, shit." Her shoulders tightened defensively.

I smiled, all business. "Mrs. Daugherty. I was hoping we could talk."

"I told you everything I knew." The crackling in her voice seemed more severe in the evening hours.

"We both know that's not true."

"You callin' me a liar?"

"I'm calling you a mother. A mother who would do anything to protect her son." Her disposition softened so I lay it on even thicker. "Including lying about his whereabouts to protect him from the cops. But I'm not a cop." And I'd left my cop at home.

"He doesn't deserve prison." Her smoke blackened lungs didn't allow her to say that as gently as she'd meant but the sadness in her eyes revealed the truth. Despite prior negligence she loved Peter very much.

"Then you and I are on the same page."

Her eyes flickered to Johnny. She studied him for a moment before sniffing. "Your man's different."

Great, she thought I was the Bride of Frumpenstein.

She was silent for a moment as she gaged whether I could be trusted. Her yellowed eyes bore holes into me until she finally sighed and said, "Fine. Come in." she pulled the door open and shrunk back from the cold. "Be quick about it. You'll let out the heat."

I admit I haven't been inside a trailer since high school. And in that case, it was fourth period pre-Calculus. So please forgive me for being surprised at how cozy it felt inside. The living room was small but tidy. A couch and two recliners were assembled around an old-style flat screen. A kitchen nook sat to the right, the counters cluttered with old appliances and a small brown table pushed up against the wall. It was cramped I admit, but it still somehow felt bigger than my apartment. Maybe Alice is right. Maybe it's time to invest in a starter home.

Karen pointed to the couch and Johnny and I sat down first while she flopped her boney body into an easy chair. The tv played some old Lifetime movie of the week.

"What do you want to know?" she said with a cough.

"When did you last see Peter?"

"Last Friday." Her lanky fingers reached for a half empty pack of Pall Malls on the coffee table.

"Was Derrick with him?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"He told me he snapped and killed his foster mom but I didn't believe him," she grabbed a lighter and lit the cigarette hanging between her thin lips. "He needed a place to lay low so I let him stay for the night but the next day he wanted to leave. I gave him my pick-up."

"You gave him your pick-up?"

She exhaled a puff of smoke, "It ain't worth much but it'll get him wherever he wants to be."

"What about Derrick?"

"He was quiet, I guess. Didn't say much of anything and kept to himself."

"Was he hurt?"

"No. Wasn't even scared. Just looked kinda shell-shocked."

"What was Peter's plan?"

"Said they would lie low for a while and then leave town. I...I told him that was stupid and that he should leave as soon as possible."

"That's why you let him have your car." It was meant to be a question though we both knew the answer.

"I wasn't always the best mother. I know that. It was the least I could do...", her fingers trembled as she raised the cigarette to her lips and took a slow drag.

"Has Peter contacted you in the last week?"

Her body tensed, "...He called last Sunday."

A string of thick-throated coughs came from one of the rooms behind me. I guess she didn't live alone. "About what?"

"Just to say goodbye. Said his phone number wasn't gonna be no good no more."

"Karen, baby!" said a man with a voice even more gravelly than Karen. "Grab me some water, would you?"

Karen bellowed in his general direction, "In a minute, Harvey!" She rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair like she had no intention of ever getting up again. When it came to getting stuff for people who could presumably walk she and I were kindred spirits.

"Do you know where he is?"

She scratched at the thin hair on her head while avoiding eye contact. "He's at the Sleep Inn on Carpenter Drive."

Excitement bubbled. My legs itched to jump up and go, but there was more I wanted to know. "Have you spoken with Rachel at all in the last week."

She snorted. "No."

"So, you wouldn't know why she'd lie about something?"

Her upper lip curled into a snarl. "She's just a liar in general."

"What's that mean?"

"When she first started dating Pete she wouldn't tell her rich daddy about him 'cause she's scared of him." She rolled her eyes. "Then she come in my house talkin' bullshit about them getting married."

"They aren't engaged?" Would she lie about something like that? Or was it Karen who was misinformed.

"I don't know if they are now, but I can tell you my son is easily led by the hand. He hates conflict. And Rachel is one of those people who thinks things will come true if you say it long enough, you know?"

"Yes. We've met."

Karen took another long drag and blew the smoke into the air. "And she scammed her daddy too."

"Scammed?"

"Needed money for the wedding," she tapped her cigarette against the lip of a filthy ashtray. "Pretended she was going to college so he'd pay the bill. Would register and then drop the course for the refund."

That's some trifling shit. I mean...I'm not here to judge when it comes to manipulating others and lord knows I've seen people try to cheat the collegiate system, but your own father?

"Has Peter ever mentioned Randy Watkins?"

She nodded. "Yep. Told me he saved his life. Kept him straight and narrow for years."

"So their relationship was close then?"

"Yep. They're two peas in a pod."

"Any other friends I should know about?"

"There's this guy. Jay somethin'. Met him way back in the day when he was living on the streets."

"Where did they meet?"

"Homeless shelter. The one on Adams."

"Do you have his number?"

"No. And you shouldn't go lookin' for him neither. He's bad news."

Noted. "What kind of pick-up is it?"

"Ninety-five Chevy Silverado. Red." She coughed out the word 'red'. "Got it for a deal."

"Karen!" The man in the bedroom-Harvey-was getting antsy for that water.

"I'm comin'!" Karen smothered the last of her cigarette in the dirty ashtray.

I stood. "Thank you." And I meant that. For the first time all week it felt like someone was being straight with me.

"Get him to turn himself in," she said. "I'd rather have an incarcerated son than a dead one."

Johnny and I jumped back into my car and zipped over to the Sleep Inn on Carpenter. By the time we got through the still active traffic the sun was gone, the temperature had dipped, and I'd cranked the heat.

The parking lot of the Sleep Inn was strangely energetic considering parking lots weren't what I would consider common hang out spots. People clustered together in the cold-laughing, talking, and smoking and drinking-and generally having a good ol' time.

"The hell?" My question was rhetorical, but Johnny answered anyway.

"Some of these people live in the motels," he said with a shrug. "They're neighbors. It's like a community."

"A community of homeless people."

"Well, yeah."

As we continued our tour through the parking lot my eyes swept back and forth across the rows of cars. "What was it? A ninety-five Chevy..."

"Silverado. Red." Johnny said.

I drove slowly, my eyes skimming over row after row of the parked vehicles, only halting when I caught a flash of red illuminated by my headlights. I pumped the breaks when I saw it. "There it is." It was parked curbside, right in front of the first row of rooms not too far from the front office.

No spaces were available near it so I hit the gas and circled around to the next row, and then me and Johnny-still along for the ride I guess-walked our way to Karen's red truck.

It was empty of course. Why in God's name didn't I remember to ask Karen for the room number? You're slacking, Harper. Without the exact room I did the next best thing and started with the door closest to the truck.

After I knocked a balding man with a wispy mustache and hard grey eyes opened the door.

"Hi," I said. "Is Peter Daugherty staying here?"

"Wrong room."

"Sorry."

I moved to the next door and knocked again. "Hi," I said when a heavy-set brunette woman opened the door. "Is Peter Daugherty staying here?"

"Sorry, no." She closed the door.

I went to the next one. And the next. And got the same reaction. No Peter, and no one whose face lit up in recognition of his name.

I was on the fifth door (and my last nerve) when it happened. Two rooms down the door flew open and out ran a brown-haired man and a teenager sprinting out of the Sleep Inn like I was the Feds.

"Peter, wait!"

He didn't stop or slow down at my plea. Instead they bolted for the red pickup and flung themselves in. He pulled out of his space in such a frenzied way I thought for sure he'd hit another car, but he made it. I sprinted for the road and stood between that truck and freedom like a human barrier. "Peter, stop! I know you didn't kill her! I can help you!"

I know he heard me. Despite the blinding glare from his headlights there was hesitation. This was it. This was the moment. My heart thundered in my chest as I waited. All he had to do was turn off the truck and let me explain that I was on his side. Not Trudy's and not Rachel's. This could be over if he only let me help.

But as I waited for a response, he merely drove around me and hit the gas. "God damn it!" Without thinking I ran after the truck as it tore out of the parking lot.

"Evie, stop!" Johnny's voice echoed behind me but I paid no mind. I'm so close.

My feet ached as they beat against the ground. I wasn't wearing the shoes for this. I was wearing flats and with every swift kick of my leg they came closer to flying off altogether. They were damn cute but not built for this level of activity. Not that I was ever going to be able to keep up anyway.

I stopped my pursuit with a grunt of frustration after his headlights had disappeared. Irritation fueled anger rose to my cheeks. The winter chill disappeared. I was goddamn hot. Hotter than I'd been in a long time. I marched back towards Peter's room with my jaw set so hard my teeth could have shattered.

Johnny stared in disbelief. "Don't even think about it."

"Do you know how long it took me to track him down?"

"Do you know what the cops will do if they catch you?"

"Who's gonna tell? You?" He didn't answer. "Alright then."

Before he could continue talking sense into me I walked around him. The door to Peter's motel room was still cracked a little. I used my shoulder to push it the rest of the way.

"Shit." Johnny trailed behind me, casually looking over his shoulder every two steps.

The air inside was warm. Like it still whirled with human energy. There wasn't much to it. Just two beds, a dresser, a couple of night stands with table lamps, and a tv blaring some dumb Adult Swim show.

I walked further inside, very aware that one finger print could lead the cops back to me. A handful of clothing was draped over one of the beds. Empty potato chip bags and Debbie cake wrappers filled the waste basket. More of them were heaped on top of the dresser. On top of one of the night stands was a pile of messy papers. I pulled the sleeves of my jacket down to cover my fingers, then slowly thumbed through the stack.

There was an i.d. with what I assumed was Peter's face but with a phony name. A stack of cash. Receipts, mostly from convenience stores. And printed computer paper. I looked over it and read the heading.

"It's a receipt," I frowned as I skimmed the first page. "A prepaid phone. Seventy-five dollars. Why would he-"

"It's probably a burner."

"Yes. But who does he need to call?" He's not picking up for any of his family members. Who else was there?

I pulled my phone out and snapped a couple of pictures of the i.d., some scratch paper where he'd written some notes, and the print-out receipt which the clerk at whatever store he got it from had helpfully highlighted his new number. When the phone buzzed in my hand I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was Manny.

I answered carefully. "Heyyyy..."

He seemed chipper. "Hey. How was work?"

"Same old bullshit. You?"

"Same old bullshit." I could almost feel him smiling at me. "I want to see you."

"Sure. I can pencil you in tomorr-"

"I want to see you now."

"Oh, okay." Keep it light, Evie.

"Let's go get something to eat."

"Great. I'm starving. Let's do it." My voice sounded peculiar, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Where are you?"

"At home."

"I'll pick you up."

Shit! Why did I say that? "Uh...okay. Swing by in...an hour."

"An hour? Why-"

"You know how we women are." I forced myself to chuckle. "Gonna spend forty-five minutes just in the bathroom."

"Doing what?"

"I don't know, man. Girl stuff...ironing my pantyhose, teasing my eyebrows...shaving my mustache." He laughed. "I want to look pretty for you."

I said that last bit in my most vulnerable, affectionate tone. "Okay," he said. "An hour it is."

I hung up and turned back to Johnny. "We need to leave. Now."

"Evie, we should call the cops now."

I started walking toward the door. "We can talk about it in the car. Vámonos."

But he did not vámonos. "Evie..."

"If you're so adamant about the cops why don't you call them yourself?" I shoved my phone toward his face. It felt unnaturally aggressive for me but this little excursion of ours was stressful enough without the ticking clock that had just been added to the mix.

Johnny stared at it but didn't take it. "I see," I said. "It's easy to have the moral high ground when you don't have any skin in the game."

"I'm just trying to do the right thing here."

"That's new."

He was taken aback. "The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"We don't have time for this right now." I can literally feel the seconds ticking by!

"Say what you were going to say."

"I don't think it fair for someone like you to imply-"

"Someone like me?"

"Yeah, someone like you. Someone who's detached-"

"Detached?"

"Yes. You can just pick up and go whenever you want. No social. No phone numbers. 'Johnny' might not even be your real name-"

"What does that have to do with anything?" I'm starting to regret bringing him along.

"You can't tell me that you don't do shady shit to live like that. How can you judge me for working around the system a little when you're not even a part of the system?"

He frowned and his mouth tightened. "I'm not like that."

"Yes, you are." I inched toward the door. Hopefully he'd get the hint. "So, what? I call the cops and you walk to the nearest bus stop and I get to deal with them for God knows how many hours?"

He stared at me like a wounded puppy. "I wouldn't leave you."

He didn't talk to my ass the whole drive to the boarding house. There was a strange kind of tension in the silence. Like he wanted to say something-a rebuke of my behavior, anything-but he didn't.

As we sat parked in front of his building, I searched for the words to make this better while not apologizing because I had nothing to apologize for, thank-you-very-much. "I know you think I'm taking unnecessary risks, but I know what I'm doing."

"Are you sure?"

I couldn't answer him. So, we sat there staring at one another in the darkness of my car until he wordlessly climbed out and left me to my own thoughts.