“I’m not quite sure how to reply to that.”
“Anyway, he’s out of the picture and I figured, maybe, if the DNA tests show we’re actually related, maybe, you know…”
I folded my arms. “Maybe I can join your private investigation business?”
Harry nodded, smiling. “Full partners. Fifty-fifty. Think about it, Jackie. We’d be the only brother-and-sister crime-fighting team in the country.” His eyes danced like candle flames. “Mom will be so proud of us.”
“We don’t even have the test results, Harry.”
“Okay. Call.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
I led Harry through the shambles that was my dwelling, made my way into the kitchen, and picked up the phone. The number for the DNA place was written on a pad.
“Biologen, this is Dr. Stefanopolous.”
“Hi, I’m calling about a DNA match check. The name is Daniels. The batch number is 8431485.”
“Hold on, please.”
Harry poked me. “What did they say?”
“She’s checking.”
We waited, Harry’s eyes pressing on me, his ruined face awash with expectation.
“You’re looking for the results of the Daniels/McGlade comparison?” the doctor finally asked.
“Yes.”
“Negative. No relation.”
“You’re sure?”
“We’ll mail the detailed results to you within the next five business days. Thanks for choosing Biologen.”
She hung up.
“Well?” Harry asked.
I’d known him for over twenty years, and had never seen him so excited, so happy, his face so lit up.
Then I thought of Mom, and how pleased she was to have found her long-lost son. She’d be so disappointed.
I weighed that against the ickiness I felt. But, strangely, now that I knew we weren’t actually related, some of the ickiness was gone.
“Come on, Jackie! Don’t keep me in suspense!”
I frowned.
“Welcome to the family, Harry.”
I had to endure a big hug, which hurt like hell because of my various aches and pains.
“I gotta call Mom,” he said, breaking the embrace. “She gets back in a few days. We should all go out to eat. Celebrate.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “Sure.”
“Then we can get our matching tattoos.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Awesome.” I don’t think he heard me. “I’ll call you to night about signing the lease.”
“What lease?”
“Our new office. It’s a primo location, Jackie. Needs a bit of a fix-up, but it will be perfect for our business.”
“Harry, I haven’t-”
“Gotta run.” He slipped in fast and gave me a peck on the cheek. “I’ll tell Mom you said hi.”
And then he was out the door, leaving me to wonder about the monster I’d just created.
Since I was already in the kitchen, and since it was just as messy as the rest of the house, I grabbed a broom and dustpan and began sweeping. It was mindless work, rewarding in a menial, repetitive way. Being domestic wasn’t something I did much of, but I felt like I could get used to it. Maybe even start to enjoy it.
At around noon I got hungry and ordered Chinese food-my domesticity ended at cooking. Half an hour later there was a knock at the front door. I grabbed some cash, brushed some dust off my jeans, and went to pay the delivery driver.
But it wasn’t the food. It was someone else.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
Phin wore jeans and a white T-shirt, tight in all the right places. He had his hands in his pockets and a boyish grin on his face that made him look ten years younger, which would make him twenty years younger than me.
“Thanks for putting up the bond money.”
“I’ve got a little extra in the bank.”
“A hundred grand is more than a little.”
“Let’s call it even. I know you talked to the Feds, got the charges against me dropped.”
“We’re not even. Not even close.”
“I trashed your truck,” I said.
“I can steal another one. But the money…Jack, I can’t pay that much back.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“And chances are high I’m not going to appear on my court date.”
I nodded again. “I know. It’s okay.”
He moved a little closer to me, his gaze intense.
“Look, Jack, I know how you feel about me. And if you really want to just be friends, I’d rather have your friendship than none of you at all.”
I stared at Phin, and felt something I hadn’t felt in weeks. Happiness. I was actually happy. It was such an alien feeling I wasn’t sure what to do.
My mouth made the decision for me, locking onto his with a heat, a passion, an intensity that made me realize maybe, just maybe, things might work out after all.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Phin whispered. “I come with some pretty hefty baggage.”
I smiled, wicked, free, and wonderfully alive. Maybe for the first time in my entire life.
“Well, Mr. Troutt. I guess we’ll just have to take it one day at a time.”
Then I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into my house.
Acknowledgments
SPECIAL THANKS TO Don Oakes and John Nebl, two very smart cops. Any mistakes in this book are mine, as they don’t make mistakes.
A toast to my fellow writers Raymond Benson, Blake Crouch, Barry Eisler, Jack Kilborn, Henry Perez, James Rollins, Marcus Sakey, and Jeff Strand for their unwavering support.
Thanks to my family and friends, everyone at Dystel & Goderich, Hyperion, the booksellers, the libraries, and the fans.
And finally, to a select group who continue to spread the word, including Ben Springer, Brenda Anderson, Brian Prisco, Corky Mayo, Dan Blackley, Dave Eaton, Elizabeth Brux, Greg Swanson, Jan May, Jeanne Donnelly, Jim Munchel, Joe Menta Jr., Karen L. Syed, Kathy Cox, Melanie Williams, Michele Lee, Nick Goodrick, Patricia Reid, Patrick Balester, Paul Pessolano, Robert Mosley, Robyn Glazer, Sean Hicks, Steve Jensen, and all the JAKaholics on my message board.
J. A. Konrath
A native of Chicago, J. A. Konrath has also written for cable TV, performed improvisational comedy, and designed award-winning websites.
