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look away.

The short man turns towards me, scenting an opportunity to regain his dominance. Without missing a beat I hop up onto the stool beside Laurie. She pushes a bottle of cold Corona towards me and I pick it up and take a swig, keeping my eyes fixed on the man the whole time.

‘You heard the woman,’ I say.

We’re on our second beers, sipping them slowly, our eyes continually straying to the clock above the bar. It’s almost midnight. We’ve been here fifty minutes and I’m trying not to show any sign of the anxiety that’s gnawing away at my insides. Laurie seems much more relaxed, but twenty years teaching in the kind of schools that have metal detectors and airport-style security at the front gates has given her a Teflon coating.

‘Honestly,’ she says, eyeing the short man, who has gone back to his pool game and seems intent on ignoring us. ‘I’ve dealt with tougher sixth graders than him. How long do we stay?’

‘As long as it takes,’ I answer, glancing at my phone. There are no messages from Gene and I wonder where he is and what he’s up to. The more I think about it, the more obvious it seems to me that he has to be involved. My mind spins around the possibilities. Did he get into some kind of trouble with these two men – Raul and James – and was Robert trying to get him out of it?

The boy with the baggy jeans is finally finishing his pool game. He pots the last ball and then, after exchanging a handshake and taking money from his opponent, he glances in our direction. Turning his back, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes a quick call, looking briefly over his shoulder at us as he talks to whoever is on the other end.

‘Here we go,’ murmurs Laurie.

Fifteen minutes later my nerves are stretched taut. I eye the tequila bottles lined up along the bar and contemplate getting a shot of one to help steel me but I don’t have time. A sudden commotion by the door snatches my attention. The bar falls quiet as two men enter, the door swinging shut behind them.

I recognize them instantly from their mug shots. Raul and James.

They scan the bar, their eyes falling on us. One nudges the other and they weave their way towards us, the tall one – James – stopping to slap the young man on the shoulder by way of greeting.

Everyone in the bar is now staring at us, collectively holding their breath. My heart starts racing and I wonder for the thousandth time what on earth I was thinking coming here.

‘Are you fucking stupid?’ the man with the shaved head, Raul, hisses the minute he reaches me, as though he’s read my mind.

‘I . . .’ I stutter.

‘Did the cops see you come in here? Are they following you?’ His mouth twists into a snarl that shows his gums and a gold tooth flashes where his canine should be.

‘No. No, we made sure,’ I say, my voice quavering. Laurie and I did some rudimentary spycraft learned from the movies, taking an early exit on the freeway and then circling the block a few times before parking.

‘No one knows we’re here.’ I instantly regret making that known.

Raul studies us, eyes roving our bodies, his mouth tightly pursed. ‘Maybe you’re working with the cops.’

‘Oh please,’ says Laurie, scoffing loudly. ‘Really? Do we look like police informants? Do I look like I’m wearing a wire?’ She gestures to the tank top she’s wearing.

‘Why are you here?’ the second man – the preppy-looking one, James – says to me. He seems agitated, glancing over his shoulder nervously and keeping his voice low.

‘I need to talk to you.’ I glance between the two of them. ‘I know it wasn’t you who broke into my house.’

‘Tell that to the fucking detectives,’ Raul snarls. ‘Cos they still seem to think it was.’

‘I did tell them,’ I say, taking a deep breath.

They glance at each other, then back at me. ‘So what are you doing here?’ James asks. ‘What do you want?’

‘Why did my husband meet with you?’ I say. ‘What was he paying you for?’

‘Why not ask him?’ he answers.

‘I have. He won’t tell me. He won’t speak to anyone and I need to know what’s going on. I figured maybe you might be able to tell me something.’

Raul stares at me for a beat and then he’s suddenly in my face, looming over me, baring his teeth, fists coiled tight at his side, his mouth a mean, tight slash. I flinch.

‘You fucking bitch,’ he spits. ‘Coming here, who do you think you are? You think just cos your husband don’t want to speak to you, that I will?’ He laughs, shaking his head, and looking around the bar. ‘You realize the shit you could get us into?’ he asks, gesturing at the room. ‘Everyone seeing us here together. Cops already think we’re connected to you. They’re looking for any excuse to nail us. Now you’re giving them one.’

I shrink backwards on my stool, my heart pounding and my mouth dry, but then a switch flips inside me. All the fear and anger that’s been building since it happened explodes and I’m up off the stool, pointing my finger in Raul’s chest. ‘Listen,’ I spit, ‘I’m sorry you’re pissed but here’s the thing: my husband’s in prison, my daughter’s in a coma, the bank is about to take my house and I’m so in debt I couldn’t pay it off even if I worked for the next hundred years.’ I lean even further into Raul’s personal space. ‘You think your life is fucked? Believe me, mine is way more fucking fucked than yours. You have a lawyer who looks like she eats prosecutors for breakfast. Meanwhile my husband is stuck with a public defender who last won a case in 1987. The cops are convinced that it was you who broke

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