Sara suddenly thought back to Fiskes pulling his shirt back down before they made love. Does he have a scar?

Ed looked at her funny. Why do you ask?

Something he said.

He nodded slowly. From his gut to his neck.

Too old for skinny-dipping, Sara said to herself.

Guess they couldve done some plastic surgery, but Johnny had had enough of hospitals. Besides, I think he figured if they couldnt fix him on the inside, what the hell did it matter what he looked like on the outside?

Saras face took on a stricken look. What do you mean? He fully recovered, didnt he?

Ed shook his head sadly. Those bullets ripped him bad, bounced around inside him like a damn pinball. They patched him up, but just about every one of his organs was damaged for good. Maybe they could make it all right if Johnny wanted to spend a bunch of years in the hospital, have transplants and stuff like that. But that aint my son. Docs say eventually things inside him are just going to stop working. They said it was like diabetes you know, how a persons organs get worn out and all? Sara nodded as her own stomach started to churn. Well, the docs said those two bullets will eventually cost Johnny about twenty years of his life, maybe more. And there wasnt really nothing they could do about it. Back then we didnt care. Hell, he was alive, that was enough. But I know he thinks about it. He pumped iron, ran like a damn demon, got himself in good shape, at least on the outside. Quit the police force. Wouldnt even take damn disability, although he was sure as hell entitled. Became a lawyer, works like a dog for what amounts to chickenshit, and gives me and his momma most of it. I got no pension and Gladyss medical bills added up to more than I made in my whole life. Hell, we had to mortgage this place again after spending thirty years paying it off. But you do what you got to do.

As Ed paused, Sara glanced over at the table where John Fiskes medal for valor sat. A little piece of metal for all that pain.

I tell you all this so youll see Johnny doesnt really have the same goals as you and me might. Never got married, never talks about having no kids of his own. Everything is sped up for him. He figures if he makes it to fifty, hes the luckiest man on earth. He told me that himself. Ed Fiske looked down, his voice catching. Never figured Id outlive Mike. I hope to God I dont outlive my other boy.

Sara finally found her voice. I appreciate your telling me this. I realize it was hard for you. You dont really know me.

Depending on the situation, sometimes you can know a person better in ten minutes than someone youve crossed paths with all your life.

Sara rose to leave. Thank you for your time. And John really needs to hear from you.

He nodded solemnly. Ill do that.

As her hand touched the doorknob, Ed spoke one last time. You still love my son?

Sara walked out without answering. *����*����* At the small caf�own from his office building, Fiske bought his coffee and sat down at an outside table. McKenna did the same. At first Fiske chose to completely ignore the hovering FBI agent and idly watched the passersby while he drank his coffee. He slipped on his sunglasses as the sun cleared the top of the building across the street and drew both mens shadows across the bricks. McKenna silently munched on some crackers he had bought and fingered his Styrofoam cup of coffee.

Hows the gut? Sorry I had to punch you like that.

The only thing youre sorry about is that you didnt hit me harder.

No, really. I saw the shotgun and got concerned.

Fiske looked up at him. I guess you thought I might be able to somehow open the car door, pull the shotgun out, swing it around and get off a shot before you could blow me away from a distance of, what, six inches?

McKenna shrugged. FYI, I read up on your police record. You were a good cop. Right up until the end, anyway.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

McKenna sat down at the table. Nothing, other than there being some questions about that last event in your record. Care to fill me in on it?

Fiske took off his glasses and stared at the man. Why dont you put a bullet in my head instead? I think that would be more fun for me.

McKenna leaned his chair back against the side of the building and lit up a cigarette. You know, if youre so anxious to prove your innocence, then you might want to start being a little more cooperative.

McKenna, youre convinced I killed my brother, so why should I bother?

Ive worked a lot of cases over the years. Half the time my original theory didnt turn out to be right. My philosophy is: Never say never.

Boy, you really sound sincere.

McKenna assumed a friendlier tone. Look, John, Ive been doing this stuff a long time, okay? Nice, neat little cases arent the norm. There are twists on this one and Im not ignoring them. He stopped and then added as casually as he could, So why was your brother interested in Rufus Harms, and what exactly was in the appeal?

Fiske put his sunglasses back on. That doesnt fit into your theory of me killing my brother.

Thats only one of my theories. Im down here following that up by looking for your suddenly vanished nine-millimeter. While Im waiting on that, Im looking at it from another angle: Rufus Harms. Your brother took the appeal, it looks like he visited the prison.

Chandler told you that?

I have a lot of information sources. You and Evans have both been snooping around into Harmss background. He escaped from a prison in southwest Virginia. And you two took a chartered plane to that area last night. Why dont you tell me about that? Whered you go and why?

Fiske sat back, stunned. McKenna had put them under surveillance. That wasnt unusual, yet somehow Fiske hadnt even thought about the possibility. You seem to know so much why ask me?

You might have some information I could use to solve this case.

Ahead of Chandler?

When people are getting killed, what does it matter who stops it first?

That statement made a lot of sense, Fiske knew. On the surface, at least. But of course it mattered a great deal who stopped it. People in law enforcement kept score, just like people in other lines of work. Fiske stood up. Lets check in with Billy. By now hes probably found those two bodies I stuffed in my file cabinet last week.

Hawkins was just finishing up when they returned.

Nothing, he said in response to McKennas look. You can search it yourself if you want, he added defiantly.

Thats okay, I trust you, McKenna said amicably. Fiske was staring at Hawkins. Whats that, Billy? Fiske pointed at his neck and collar.

Whats what?

Fiske touched Hawkinss collar with his finger and then held it up for the man to see. Hawkins blushed a little. Oh. Damn, that was Bonnies idea to cover the bruises. Thats why my face doesnt look so beat up. Ive never been hit that hard in my life. I mean, the guy was big, but so am I.

McKenna said, I wouldve emptied my clip in the bastard.

Fiske stared openmouthed at McKenna as he said this. Hawkins nodded. I was tempted. But anyway, the guys would give me hell if they knew, but its so hot outside and you start sweating, and the stuff just comes off on your clothes. I dont know how women do it.

Then youre saying its

Yeah, its makeup, he said sheepishly. Despite the revelation that had just occurred to him, Fiske tried his best to appear calm. He unconsciously rubbed his still-tender shoulder. McKenna was staring at him. Just then the phone rang. Fiske picked it up. It was the nursing home where his mother lived.

I read about Michael in the paper. Im so sorry, John. The woman had worked at the home for years and Fiske knew her very well.

Thanks, Anne. Look, right now is a real bad time

I mean, Michael was just here and now hes gone. I cant believe it.