"How did you know 'fucking' was my middle name?"

        "Don't play with me." I crossed my arms over my chest. "What are you doing here?"

        He took off his sunglasses and stared down at me with a look of absolute panic. "Okay. This looks bad, but I swear I didn't mean to invade your privacy."

        "Uh-huh."

        "Last night I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd swing by and say 'hey', 'cause I hadn't seen you in a couple of days and I saw you walking out with some woman. But you were already getting in the car—"

        "Alice?" my mouth dropped open. "Did you follow me last night on my stakeout?"

        He audibly swallowed the lump in his throat. "Like I said I wasn't following you at first, we were just going the same way. But then you were acting weird on the expressway—I thought you were in trouble, like you were having car trouble or something. So I followed you off the exit to make sure you were okay. But then you kept driving and then I was curious so..."

        "Were you staking me out while I was staking out Rachel?"

        "It was an accident."

        "An accident?" I said with a sarcastic scoff. "You accidently sat out there watching me for three hours?"

        "God, was it three hours? You were out there so long! I had to piss in a bush."

        "And what about right now? Did you accidentally follow me here too?"

        "There's no crime against standing on a sidewalk."

        "Manny Juarez!" Much of my anger was feigned to tell the truth. I understood why he would worry about me and besides that it was nice to have backup. It was the way he'd gone about it that was irritating me. But I'll be damned if I tell him that.

        "Okay, yes. You looked like you were in over your head and needed an assist."

        "I'm doing alright."

        "I believe you." The smile he gave me betrayed his nervousness. "But if you weren't, it's okay to ask for help."

        "I don't have time for this." I scowled.

        "You gonna make me leave?"

        "I can't make you do anything." I marched back toward the park without a backward glance. The air became bitter as a breeze moved through the neighborhood. The news had promised overcast skies and high winds but as long as it wasn't rain it wouldn't interfere with my plans.

        I pulled my coat tighter around my torso, stuffed my hands in my pockets, and stopped only when I got to the place I'd chosen to observe from. It was partially obscured by an old oak whose roots had partly toppled the short chain-link fence that boarded this side of the park. I made it back into position just as Peter and Carl reached the center of the park.

        Manny didn't say anything as he wandered up, but I could feel him standing behind me. "What's going on?" he asked after watching the scene in the park.

        He was close enough to hear me whisper, "The man in the red shirt is Peter. We lured him here by offering money since he can't use the ATM."

        "Other guy?"

        "His backup. I think he's the one that's been helping him this whole time."

        I could hear him rubbing his hands together for warmth. "You got that stuff I got you?"

        "They're in my pockets."

        "Good girl."

        Good girl? I could smack the fuck out of him... "What about you? I assume you're carrying today?"

        "Always." He pulled his coat open and flashed me his side-arm.

        Great, now there's a gun in play. "Please don't shoot anyone."

        "Not unless there's a threat."

        "Of course. But only as a last resort."

        "Don't patronize me," his tone got momentarily gruff. "I'm not some trigger-happy rookie. You know me."

        "Guns make me nervous—"

        "I know...and I didn't mean to snap."

        "I didn't mean to offend."

        Our attention turned back to the park when Randy's voice picked up volume. He and Carl were standing nose to nose. It was difficult to hear over the bustling wind, but I managed to make out every other word of their argument.

        Randy's face was as red as a beet, "No!...Fuck you!...not... explained ...fucking junkie!"

        Carl wasn't turning colors. But he was just as livid. "...doesn't want...not...old man!"

        "Mind....fucking business!"

        When Carl got tired of smelling Randy's breath, he put his hands on the bigger man's chest and shoved him back.

        There was no stopping what happened next. I saw the windup. Randy pulled back, his body twisting slightly. His fingers balled up tight.

        I think I wanted to intervene, but all I managed was a dispirited, "Shit."

        Carl took the hit right on the chin and stumbled over, landing with a thud in the dirt.

        Peter stepped up to Randy and gave him a weak shove in response but it was unnecessary, Carl was up quick. He flew at Randy in a frenzy, pummeling him with hits that were twice as forceful as the one he'd gotten.

        That's when all hell broke loose. As Carl and Randy brawled in the dirt, Peter made a mad dash back to his truck. That's when Rachel jumped into the driver's seat and used the spare key to crank it up. Peter was taken off guard.

        He stopped near the driver's side when he saw her behind the wheel and slammed the palms of his hands against the roof. Rachel honked the horn and yelled something incomprehensible at him from behind the glass.

        That's when Leonard—Lord help me I'd forgotten about Leonard—broke into an awkward dash and tried to sprint to Peter like he'd never run a day in his life. Peter saw him and stepped back off the curb and into the street. Leonard dived after him and managed to grab him by the sleeve of his sweatshirt. They started scuffling in the middle of the road like two skinny chickens fighting over the last bit of scratch in the yard.

        Carl was trying to follow Peter, but Randy had gotten the upper hand somehow and now sat on top of the hapless dealer, using his hundred-pound advantage to detain him. Peter and Leonard continued their tug of war as Rachel, standing in the now opened doorjamb of the pickup, screamed at both of them.

        I sighed. "I don't even know who to help first."

        "If it was me, I'd arrest everyone. But I'm off duty so it's not my problem."

        "Some help you are."

        He pointed at the hellscape in front of us. "Would you want to get in the middle of that?"

        Hell no. "I was hoping we all could discuss this like adults, but I can see now that was wrong."

        "This is a clusterfuck."

        "The biggest."

        "You want to get something to eat after this." He joked.

        "Mister, you got one more strike before you piss me off."

        "Noted."

        Carl managed to push Randy far enough away to give him a good swift kick to the groin. Randy doubled over and reeled in the dirt. Once Carl was on his feet he ran toward Peter and Leonard and gave Leonard a blow to the face. Leonard went flying. Rachel screamed. I could practically hear the skin scraping off his face when he landed against the concrete. I winced.

        I watched in dismay as Peter ran down Amory Street. This was my chance. I sprinted in the direction he was running, barely aware of Manny calling after me. I dashed toward Peter, my sneakers beating the asphalt with every step and my coat blowing open in the wind.

        When I rounded the corner, he saw me coming. Recollection lit his eyes. Damn. I was hoping he wouldn't recognize me. He stopped in place, unsure of where to go and what to do. I stopped too and took a slow step toward him. Before I could get a word out, he spooked and ran toward the abandoned apartment building.

        I raced after him. He ran through a pathway bordered with overgrown grass. I followed behind and entered an inner courtyard that was boxed in by the three connected buildings of the complex. When he realized he'd trapped himself in he circled for a moment like a caged animal. When he saw me following, he hesitated for only a second and ran at the closest door, giving it a few good shoves until it gave under his weight. A slight panic hit me as I watched him disappear inside.

        What if something bad happens if I go in there? What if this is like a crack house and I interrupt their cracking or whatever and get my ass kicked? I mean I guess they could be friendly crack people but that's probably not something to risk. What if I get secondhand crack smoke and O.D—no that's ridiculous...but what if it's like one of those sleeper things and it fucks up all my future fetuses and I struggle to have children because I inhaled secondhand crack fumes or some shit? Why wasn't this covered in my high school health class? If you can get it from tobacco, then logically—oh my God, what if there are rats inside. I hate rats! Dealing with them sounds worse than dealing with crackheads...

        ...Okay, fuck it.

        Rats can't hurt me, I'm a million times their size! And as for anyone bigger, Manny was sure to be right behind me.

        I was about to go in when someone snatched my wrist and spun me around. I gasped.

        "What do you think you're doing?" Carl screamed in my face.

        I gasped again but no intelligent words came from my mouth; in fact nothing was coming, not even air to my lungs. The world slowed. My heart thumped against my chest. I stumbled backward a bit; stopped by metal railing along the short steps that led inside. I was cornered. He came toward me, fury in his eyes. I could see where this was going. I could see his hands wrapping around my neck; feel my lungs struggling for breath. I could see myself dying on the floor of that factory—

        I was suddenly lightheaded. My body felt feverish. A cold sweat engulfed me. I started breathing again but it was short and shallow. The world sped up and everything started spinning.

        My right hand reached for my pocket and my fingers gripped the handle of the gun. I pointed it at him and squeezed the trigger and for a moment watched in horror as he died again and again and again. Just like I'd watched him die every day since it'd happened. He stared at me, his eyes accusing me as they dimmed. Murderer, they screamed.

        All the world seemed to be in this factory with this man who was dying in front of me. And the catalyst was the gun still smoking in my hands.

        But there was no gun...

        The weapon in my hand was not a gun. It was a canister. Carl charged forward. I pressed the button with my index finger and a thick mist flowed free. In my panic I'd overextended my finger and the tip splayed the stream. Most of it hit Carl dead in the eyes, but some of it was blowing my way, aided by the wind and my own clumsiness.

        Reflexively my left arm went up and my eyes snapped shut, making it just in time.

        "What the hell?" He cried as he wiped the residue from his face. "Wha—"

        That was all he had time to say before the effects kicked in. He squeezed his eyes tight as his face contorted into an ugly sneer. He started coughing uncontrollably.

        Liquids began to pour from his nose, his eyes, and his mouth. He doubled over, one hand gripping at his burning throat, the other flailing around as he gasped for breath. In-between his desperate attempt for air an animalistic moan escaped his throat as he cried in agony.

        My body started relaxing, the tension seemed to dissipate. At least until I became aware of a burning in the back of my throat. "Ah, motherfuck—" The last word sputtered out of my mouth on a cough. I bent over as the heaving took over my body.

        "What"—cough—"was"—cough—"that?" Carl wheezed my way.

        "Pepper"—cough—"spray!" I managed through my blazing lips.

        "Why"—hack hack—"did you"—cough—"pepper spray"— pant—"me?"

        My eyes started watering. I wiped at them, careful of the finger that had touched the pepper spray. "You were"—wheeze—"attacking me!"

        "Why would"—cough—"I attack"—heave—"some girl?"

        "You were"—wheeze—"coming at me"—wheeze—"very aggressively!" Saliva dribbled from my mouth. I spit but that almost seemed to make it worse.

        "Man"—cough—"that's just how"—Cough cough—"I talk! I"—cough—"wanted to talk!"

        I tried to gulp big breaths of the cold air. "Oh." I inhaled sharply and let the chill soothe my throat. It wasn't working but I realized it was wearing off on its own as I hadn't gotten the full effect from that little bit of blowback. "Well, sorry. It's non-lethal. It'll wear off in like thirty minutes, maybe...a couple hours."

        "A couple hours?" I've never heard a human howl in anguish the way he did. Made me feel kind of bad.

        "Maybe try some water."

        Carl wobbled off blindly as I walked into the apartment building. The first-floor lobby was small and filthy. There were doors on each side of a long hall. I didn't think he'd go into any of the apartments as there was no guaranteed exit. Same with the old staircase in the middle. There was no way he'd box himself in.

        I stepped further inside, leaving the door ajar so Manny would know where I'd gone, then moved slowly through the lobby. On the other side of the staircase was a door—sunlight streamed through it.

        I picked up my stride and ran through the lobby without looking around too much in case of rats and walked out the back door. Out back was a small yard that hadn't been mowed in forever. The grass was almost as tall as my knees. The owner had fenced it in with barbed wiring—probably to discourage loiterers. That's where I found Peter, frantically trying to find a way to bypass a fence.

        My voice was hoarse from all the coughing and talking was getting more difficult since my tongue was still on fire but I pushed through it. "Peter, wait."

        "This doesn't have anything to do with you."

        A bit of snot was trying to ease it's way down my nose. I sniffed. "I know. I'm not here to stop you. I just want to say my peace, then I'm going home."

        "I'm not going to the police."

        I held up my hands in surrender. "Okay. That's up to you. But do you really want to run forever?"

        "What choice do I have?"

        "You could go to the police. You could tell them everything."

        He shook his head. "They won't listen. No one ever does."

        "You don't have to convince me. I know." I dared to take a couple of slow steps forward. "You know what else I know?"

        "What?"

        "I know you didn't kill Trudy. I know about what she did to you and Leonard and Derek. I know about the photos."

        "Who told you about the photos?"

        "Your family. Kind of nutty but they definitely love you."

        "How would you know?"

        I ignored my burning desire to rinse my mouth out and focused. "Rachel the scammer was willing to pay me thousands to find you. Randy got into a fight with a drug dealer which I'm pretty sure is way above his responsibilities as an AA sponsor. Leonard...took a shower and left his house."

        He paced back and forth near the fence. "They're the ones who started this whole thing!"

        "I didn't say they were smart, just that they love you. However misguided this thing was." Jesus Christ, even my teeth hurt! How is that possible?

        From the corner of my eye I could see Manny ease through the door. His hand was resting on the grip of his gun; ready in case he needed to fire. I turned my head slightly and stared into his eyes. The look I gave him made him pause there on the back step. He frowned, glanced at Peter who had not noticed him yet, then back at me. He raised an eyebrow.

        I pressed my lips into a tight, stubborn line and shook my head.

        No.

        No?

        No.

        He paused, thinking, and then without hesitating re-holstered his gun and stepped back into the shadow of the apartment complex. I breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to Peter.

        "They just wanted the money." For a moment Peter stopped, all nervous energy deflated.

        "Well, yeah. Money's good. But I think a part of this thing was getting revenge on the person who hurt you too."

        He looked at me in bafflement. "Who are you?"

        I managed a weak smile through the inferno. "Evie Harper. Private Investigator. We talked on the phone that one time."

        He paused, thinking back, then chuckled. "You're crazy."

        "A little."

        "I can't go back."

        I nodded. "I know your first impulse is to run. I understand that impulse very well. But sometimes running isn't the answer. Sometimes you have to face the things that haunt you."

        "What about prison?"

        I shrugged. "An abuser got killed by her victim. They'll be lenient."

        "I...well, I..."

        "You didn't kill her? I know. Derek is a child. They'll be even more lenient with him."

        "It all happened so fast." His forehead wrinkled up as his expression grew more pained. "We were arguing. No, more like screaming at each other. Derek heard. He came to the study. That was the first time I ever saw him. He looks just like me..."

        I couldn't even imagine what it was like to first meet your own child at fifteen. That was fifteen years of experience gone. Fifteen years of memories.

        "Then it was all three of us arguing," he continued. "Trudy started making all these threats and then...I don't know. Before I could stop him he'd grabbed one of her cameras and beat her over the head. I guess I panicked."

        I took another tentative step forward. "Okay, so Derek killed Trudy. Fit of passion. That's what we tell the police."

        He shook his head and the mess of brown hair on his head flopped from side to side. "They'll never believe it."

        "They will. You have evidence. The police found even more when they searched her house."

        His eyes widened. "They found her pictures?"

        "They did. The whole world's gonna know what she was."

        "Maybe," he said with a long sigh. "I'm just so damn tired."

        I reached and lay a soft hand on his shoulder. He didn't shrink back or run. "Let me help you. I know a lawyer. And a cop. And a journalist. By the end of this the whole damn country is going to be on your side. You don't have to run anymore."

        "That would be nice, but Derek..."

        "Juvie, maybe."

        "Not much better than jail."

        "Yeah, but he may need more help than you can give him."

        "I know. But what if they mess him up more than he already is?"

        "I can't guarantee that everything will work out. Nothing's perfect, least of all the justice system, and I know a lot of people failed you but you're not alone anymore. You've got Rachel and Leonard and Randy and your mom's sober now and your friend Carl's clearly got your back too."

        "Clearly." He laughed. "Do you think it'll work out?"

        "I don't know. I don't have all the answers, I'm just one person."

        His eyes glistened just a bit, as if he were close to tears. But he didn't cry, only blinked a few times before his whole body relaxed into a sort of calm. "In my experience other people make things worse."

        "True," I said with a nod. "Hell is other people, but so is help."

        He nodded and bit at his bottom lip. "I could use some help."

        When I was sure he was convinced I excused myself for a moment and went inside to talk with Manny. He was standing just inside the door; his baseball cap in his hands and a look of contentment on his face.

        "You pepper sprayed yourself," He said when he saw me.

        "A little. How did you know?"

        He pressed his lips together as an attempt to hide his smile. "Don't look in a mirror for a while, okay."

        "Took you awhile to come find me."

        He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Yeah, the guy that ate that punch needed medical attention. I was making sure he didn't have a concussion."

        "Was he alright?"

        "Yeah. He refused an ambulance, though."

        "I would too. That shit's like eight hundred dollars."

        "Are you okay?"

        "Yeah."

        "You really missed your calling as a negotiator."

        "Is that your way of apologizing?"

        "Yeah. You talked him down. I'm impressed. I mean that." He smiled and I felt reassured. "You didn't even need my help."

        "No, but it was nice to have you in my corner in case things went left." I gave him a cocky little smirk. "You were my plan B."

        "Just what every man wants to hear." He chuckled a bit before shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot. "I can't be with you when you go to the police station. It's too messy."

        "I know."

        "Alright. Call me when everything's done." He turned to leave.

        "What, no kiss?"

        He laughed. "You're just trying to spread that pepper spray around."

        "Damn. Almost got you."

        "You're devious, but I'm starting to catch on."

        If he keeps up with this, I won't be able to get over on him at all. I watched him leave then turned back toward where Peter was waiting with his hands jangling anxiously in his pockets.

        "You ready?" I said.

        He looked at me and nodded. "Yeah."