“Listen, not a close friend. But I don’t know anything about Lawrence’s next of kin, or who should be contacted, but he mentioned your name one time.”

“Next of kin?” Kent asked. The words were, I realized as soon as I’d said them to Kent, loaded. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s at Mercy General. You should probably get there.”

I went downstairs and stepped out onto the sidewalk, took in a deep breath of the cool night air.

As if there weren’t enough cars at the curb, including the cab that brought me here, an unmarked black Ford with a whip antenna and mini-hubcaps screeched to a stop in front of Lawrence’s door. A tall man with a mustache and short black hair, dressed in a black Burberry trench, got out from behind the wheel. It took a moment before I realized who he was. Detective Steve Trimble, from two nights before, who’d been investigating Miles Diamond’s death-by-SUV at the men’s store on Emmett.

He glanced at me as he strode by, no doubt thinking he recognized me from somewhere, then bounded up the stairs two at a time to Lawrence’s apartment. In a matter of seconds he was back down, pointed in my direction, and said, “With me.”

He started back to his car, turned to make sure I was following him, which I was. He motioned for me to go around to the other side and get in. I did.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked. “I know you from somewhere.”

I said, “If I want to be spoken to like I’m a piece of shit, I can stay home. I’ve got teenagers.”

“Who are you?”

“Zack Walker. We met night before last. The thing on Emmett. Miles Diamond.”

Trimble squinted. “You were with Lawrence.” It was almost a question.

“That’s right.”

“And here you are again.” There was something about the way he said it, that this was some sort of cosmic coincidence.

“Yeah,” I said. “I found him.”

“Isn’t that interesting.”

“No more than his former partner showing up to find out who tried to kill him.”

He tried to conceal his surprise, but the flash in his eyes was there. “Yeah, we used to work together. Lawrence told you that?”

“Yeah.”

“What else did he tell you?”

I said nothing for a moment. “He told me a lot of things. Why don’t you ask your questions.”

The flashing red lights from the other emergency vehicles burned shadows across Trimble’s face.

When he didn’t ask one right away, I said, “He mentioned that you two worked together, plainclothes. That you went through some tough spots together.”

“Yeah, well, your paper did its best to make sure things didn’t go easy for me.”

I honestly didn’t know what my newspaper had written about that night when Trimble had frozen and Lawrence had shot that kid. That was back when I was working at home, writing science fiction novels, and not keeping up with the news the way I had to now. For a moment, I felt wistful.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about that,” I said. “Before my time.”

“Who did that to Lawrence?” He motioned with his head in the direction of the apartment.

“I don’t know.”

“He’s in surgery now. The paramedics say he was stabbed. So far, none of the neighbors report hearing anything.”

I repeated for him everything I’d told the uniformed cop. About the store stakeout, the guys in the black Annihilator, how the night before, they’d followed us when we were in Lawrence’s Buick.

“You think it was that bunch who tried to kill him?” Trimble asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m just telling you what I know. It’s kind of convenient, though, getting him out of the way before they raid the men’s shop.”

Trimble didn’t say anything for a while.

I continued, “Plus, someone was looking for something. The room he used for an office, it’s been tossed.”

“Tossed?” Trimble said.

“Isn’t that the word?” I said.

He reached for the radio hanging from the elaborate communications setup in the center of the dashboard. “Trimble here. We get anywhere tracking down the SUV that rammed in that store over on Garvin?”

“Negative,” a voice squawked back at him.

“If you get anything, let me know. That vehicle may also be wanted in connection with this thing here on Montgomery.” He replaced the handset and said to me, “I guess you’ve got a real good story to write now, huh? Hanging out with a detective who ends up nearly getting killed doing his job. That’s kind of lucky for you, right?”

I just shook my head. “Let me guess,” I said. “Next you’ll say, ‘Anything to sell newspapers.’ You know what sells newspapers? The horoscope. Where do you get off saying shit like that?”

Trimble almost looked ashamed. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

“Look,” I said, “I haven’t known Lawrence as long as you, but I like the guy. We hit it off. And if you don’t need me for anything else, it’s been a very long night, and I’d like to go home.”

Trimble reached into his jacket and brought out a card, handed it to me. “If you find out anything, hear anything, give me a call. My home number’s on there, too. Look, Lawrence was my friend, too, he still is. I’m guessing…” He let the sentence trail off, like he didn’t want to say what he was about to say. “I’m guessing he told you that I let him down one time, a while back, and there’s a lot of truth to that. I wasn’t there for him that night, and I’ve got to live with that for the rest of my life. But if there’s anything I can do now, to help him, to find out who did this to him, I’m going to do it. And I’d appreciate any help that you can give me.”

I nodded, took the card from his hand and slipped it into my jacket.

“Okay,” I said.

I got out of the cruiser and noticed that one of the uniformed cops was just finishing up with my cabby. As I approached the cab, my cell phone rang, and I jumped.

“Hey,” Sarah said.

“Hi,” I said.

“Listen, I’m sorry to call, I know you’re on your stakeout now with Lawrence, but I wanted to give you a quick call.”

“Yeah,” I said, evenly. I felt very tired all of a sudden.

“I called home, talked to Paul. And he sounded, I don’t know, I think he sounded drunk.”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

“I mean, he’s sixteen, I’m not stupid, I was sixteen, too, once, but I just wondered what he was like when you left the house.”

“He was fine.”

“I asked Angie what he’d been up to, but she either didn’t know or was covering up for him. She says she ran into you at the mall?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Angie’s home?”

“You were at the mall?”

I was trying to remember. It was true. I had been at the mall, but instead of just a few hours ago, it felt like days.

“Yeah, I guess I was. But when you talked to Angie, was she home?”

“Yeah, she said she’d just got in. Zack, what is it? You sound almost as weird as Paul did on the phone.”

“Listen, Sarah, I’m in a bit of a situation here at the moment. Why don’t we talk in the morning?”

“Is something going on? Is everything okay?”

“Lawrence didn’t make it to the stakeout tonight. He ran into a bit of trouble. I’m at his place now.”

“What kind of trouble?”

I wanted to tell her. Sarah was my rock. When I was down or hurting or scared, she was always there for me, even when I was being the jerk of the century. But I was tired, and too weary to handle the hundred questions she’d be entitled to ask.

“Honey, I’ve really got to go,” I said. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

She could sense I was holding back. She needed to ask just one question. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m okay.”

As I slipped the phone back into my jacket, I thought, I am so not okay. And I so did not want to go down this kind of road again. A road that led me, and those around me, to danger, and violence, and heartache.

I asked the cabby to give me a lift back to the doughnut shop where I’d left my car.