“We can stop,” Kane offered.“You look wrung out.”
“Two more pages,” Spade said.
“Spade,” Kane warned.
“Fine,” Spade relented.“One more page.Then she can eat.”
I laughed in spite of myself.We worked through another set.At the bottom of one page, Jason had doodled something that looked like a cartoon bomb.Under it, he had written:insurance if I die.JF + key.
“What key?”Spade muttered.
“Maybe the one I found after he was locked up?He’d sent a note about it.I found the key, and that’s what led me to the flash drive.”
“Could be.Right now, all we can do is guess,” Spade said.“Or maybe he hid a physical key somewhere.Either way, we have this.It’s more than we had a week ago.”
He closed the window and sat back.“Go.Eat.Breathe.I’ll yell when I need you again.”
“That’s your way of saying thank you, right?”I asked.
He smirked.“Pretty much.”
Kane guided me out with a hand on my lower back.The touch felt natural now.
“You okay?”he asked as we walked down the hall.
“Yes.No.Maybe.I keep expecting to turn corners and see Jason standing there.Notebook clutched in one hand, coffee mug in the other, grinning as though everything remained fine.”My voice cracked.“Then reality hits me -- where he ended up.The crimes he committed.”
Kane stayed quiet for a moment.“You still love him.”
“Yeah.”The word scraped my throat raw.“My brother acted selfishly.Thoughtlessly.A complete asshole through and through.But he belongs to me.My idiot brother.”I swallowed hard.“I hate him.I miss him.The emotions pile up, contradicting yet coexisting.”
“You’re allowed.”
“I keep thinking if I had pushed harder,” I said.“If I had called the cops sooner.If I had told him to fuck off… or if I’d known he was taking out loans, maybe he wouldn’t have spiraled so far down.”
“Or maybe he would have done it faster,” Kane said.“You did what you could with the information you had.He made his choices.So did the men above him.You refusing to carry their weight doesn’t mean you love him less.”
“I am tired of carrying men,” I muttered.
Kane snorted.“Then let us carry you for a while.”
The idea scared me more than Roth or Diaz.I still liked it.
By midday, the sun had driven off most of the chill.Someone had dragged a couple of picnic tables closer to the little playground so the kids could run while the adults ate.Men moved between yard and shop and gate.Engines rumbled.A radio near the garage played low rock.
Kane took me back to the range behind the shop.“Ready for round two?”he asked.
I looked at the targets.At the berm.At the gun in his hand.
The memory of my first shot lingered in my bones.The noise.The kick.Power surged up my arms and into my chest.I enjoyed the sensation.
Fear accompanied my enjoyment, though.Finding pleasure in such raw force reminded me too much of the gleam I’d seen in Roth’s eyes when he’d threatened me.He seemed like the type to enjoy inflicting pain.
“I want to,” I told Kane.
“We can take our time.Slow and steady wins.”Kane presented the pistol once more.
He checked the chamber, verified the magazine, and made sure I observed every motion.No rushing.No distracting jokes.The weapon received his full attention as a serious, everyday tool.
