Supermarket: Candles. Kitchen matches. Charcoal lighter fluid. Rubbing alcohol. Cigarettes.

I took all my shopping back to the house. I found a dusty ashtray under the kitchen sink, cleaned it, and put it in the living room on the lamp stand next to the empty liquor cabinet. When Dad had been alive, it was kept full of Cutty Sark. I lit three of the cigarettes and set them in the ashtray to burn. I opened ten of the brandy bottles and emptied them onto the carpeting around the lamp stand, poured a trail to the drapes, dumped the remains into Dad’s chair. It was old and would burn well.

I pulled my car out of the garage and parked it on the street. Back in the garage I dumped the bag of old rags under the barbecue grill. I emptied the charcoal lighter fluid onto the rags, let them soak. I relocated anything even remotely flammable next to the grill. I thought about the Halloween costumes Danny had when he was a kid but was sure they’d been thrown out long ago.

In the kitchen, I turned on all the stove burners.

I was using my injured hand too much. I took the other half of the pain pill.

Upstairs I made sure I had everything I wanted, went downstairs, put the Nike tote in the trunk of the Buick.

Back inside: I threw an apron and two hand towels on the stove burners. Into the living room, struck a fistful of the kitchen matches and scattered them on the carpet. The brandy caught. I watched for a moment as the flames spread, crawled toward the curtains, leapt up the wall.

I grabbed the National Geographic with Amber’s number on the cover. I also found the jacket I’d worn home from the hospital and grabbed it too. An envelope fell out of the pocket. It was the piece of mail that had been in Ma’s mailbox. I stuck it in my back pocket.

I left the house through the garage, paused to drop a match on the rags.

I got in the Buick and drove a block away, parked, got out of the car, and watched.

It wasn’t much of an arson job, but I’d avoided using gasoline or something else obvious. Maybe it would pass muster. Maybe not. Ma was insured.

It didn’t look like much at first, but then the smoke came. Some windows popped out. Flames lapped from within. I couldn’t have explained to anyone why this was a good idea, but I knew it was. Fire, the great cleanser. Pushing me forward, burning bridges behind.

Neighbors came out of their houses. I didn’t wait for the sirens. I cranked up the car, drove.

I’d been fucking up in every direction, starting with the stupid way I’d handled the Rollo Kramer job and what I’d done with Sanchez. What I was doing now might not have been smart, but it was decisive. Permanent. No going back. Stan had always said lead, follow, or get out of the way, but do something. I laughed at the burning house. This was something all right.

I took another pain pill.

Maybe I hadn’t done a damn thing right, but I was sure as hell giving myself a clean slate.

And Ma was better off in Michigan. The house wasn’t safe anymore. I didn’t want her there by herself. And it was full of papers, photo albums, a trail. I couldn’t have anyone coming after me or using Ma to try to find me. Maybe my solution was a little harsh.

I giggled.

A song running around my brain, the one ’bout the lion sleeping in the jungle.

The pain pills, I realized. I was off my rocker.

The Tokens, that was group. “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” I hummed it loud.

I put about five miles between me and the fire, then pulled into a gas station to fill up. I reached into my back pocket for my wallet and came out with the letter. I took a good look at it for the first time. It didn’t have a stamp or a postmark. There wasn’t even an address, just CHARLIE SWIFT on the front in block letters. I tore it open and read.

Mr. Swift,

You’ve made things very difficult for me and my friends. I want those accounting ledgers, and I want them soon. Your brother wouldn’t cooperate, but the young lady was more forthcoming. We convinced her to tell us everything she knew. We know the ledgers are in a locker someplace. Call me at Jeffers’s home and tell me where, and I promise no harm will come to young Amber. I don’t know what she is to you, but I believe she’s very important to your brother. Try anything foolish, and you won’t see her again. Believe me, Swift, I’m at the end of my rope, so don’t push me. Just do what you’re told. I’ll be waiting for your phone call.

– Tina

My heart dropped into my stomach. I ran to the car and got the National Geographic with Amber’s phone number. I found a pay phone quickly and dialed. Sixteen rings, no answer. I looked her up in the phonebook, scribbled down the address.

I fractured every known traffic law getting to Amber’s apartment complex. Her place was on the second floor. I ran up the stairs three at a time. A yellow strip of police tape stretched across her door. I tore it down and went inside.

Inside, a few sticks of furniture overturned. A dark stain in the center of the carpet. The place was small, so I went through it fast. Nobody there. I sat on the couch, flexing my sore hand and thinking hard.

I picked up the phone and called Burt Remington. His answering machine came on after four rings, and I hung up without leaving a message. I tried him at the police station, and the operator put me through to his desk.

“I’ve been trying to call you,” said Burt. “Did you know your brother’s in the hospital?”

“He’s alive?”

“In bad shape, but yeah.”

I melted against the couch with relief. “What happened, Burt?”

“It was at his girlfriend’s place.”

“Amber,” I said. “I’m here now.”

“You’re not supposed to be there. It’s a crime scene. It’s sealed.”

“Can it, Burt. I want to know what fucking happened.”

“Okay. Calm down. The neighbors heard gunshots and phoned us. A patrol car went over to investigate, and they found Danny on the floor. The apartment door was wide open. Danny’d been shot, and he was bleeding pretty bad. The officers at the scene phoned for the paramedics, and he was taken to County General. He’s there now. I’m told he’s recovering okay.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Whoa, Charlie, hold on. That might not be good for you to be seen around there.”

“Is he under arrest or something?”

“No. He had this enormous fucking gun, but it was purchased legally and registered, so it’s a straight case of self-defense.”

I’ll be damned. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Well, nobody believes it was a simple break-in. I managed to call off my boys, but the Feds are a different story. Agent Dunn keeps showing up around Danny’s room. I think he’s hoping to catch you there. Dunn is crazy pissed. There’s been some strange, bad shit going on.”

“I’ll worry about Dunn.”

“Charlie?”

“What is it, Burt?”

“What’s going to happen?”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s all going to be over soon.”

Danny opened his eyes, saw me, and grinned weakly. He had the usual array of tubes in his arms. I’d sent the nurse out so I could talk to him.

I said, “Hey, Bro.”

“Hey.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“What happened?”

“They came in so quick.” Danny swallowed hard, closed his eyes. “I had my gun out, fired.” He shook his head. “It was no good. I didn’t even know what was happening.”

“How many?”

“Three. I’m not sure. It was all confused. Three, I think.”

“One was a woman, sharp features, short black hair?”

“Yes.”

Tina.

“Do you remember anything?” I asked.

“They shot me, Charlie. I was so scared. I thought I was going to die.”

A lump rose in my throat. “I know. I’m sorry. Try to remember.”

“I was trying to stay awake, trying to get up and help. Amber was-”

“Go on. It’s okay.”

“She was screaming. Oh God, screaming and begging for them to let her go. The woman said they’d take her someplace out of the way. She said it wasn’t safe to stay in Orlando.”