I rubbed my bare wrist; I'd left my watch on Kelsey's coffee table. "I'm in a huge hurry. Please."

I didn't know what I'd do if she refused to help. I hadn't thought of a Plan B. I didn't know what to offer, what I had to bargain with to convince her to help me. Kelsey stared at her students. I'd have to bring her into things. Maybe I could at least control how deep.

"Danny's in trouble," I said. "He's out there somewhere about to do something that'll ruin him forever. I'm trying to catch up and he's got a big head start."

Kelsey put her hand on my chest, covering my heart. "If Danny's getting high, there's nothing you can do about it. Junkies, they have their own rules. If he's got you into it-"

"It's not drugs," I said. "It's worse. Believe it. Kelsey, please. I know where he's going. I know what he's gonna do. For once, I can stop him. Kelsey, he's my brother."

Maybe she believed me, maybe she thought of her mom and the chance she never got to save her. Or maybe I was so pathetic she couldn't resist. Whatever her motivations, she spoke.

Finally.

"Give me two minutes to get rid of these guys," she said. "Meet me at the car."

GRAVEL SPRAYED EVERYWHERE as Kelsey pulled a fishtailing U-turn in the parking lot.

Then she slammed on the brakes.

"That Saab," she said, pointing across the lot. "That's Whitestone's car." She looked at me. "I thought you said he was gone for the day. Why do you know that?"

"I'll explain on the way," I said. "Take us to Willowbrook Park. Main entrance."

Kelsey leaned on the gas and we hurtled out of the lot into traffic. She darted past three cars on the campus road and launched us through oncoming traffic at the intersection, tires screeching. I grabbed onto the dashboard for dear life.

"What?" Kelsey said. "You said we were in a hurry."

"Jesus, we're no good to him in the back of an ambulance."

"Don't worry about that," Kelsey said. "Light me a cigarette and talk."

I did as I was told, and lit one for myself. I tossed the pack on the dash, where it slid back and forth, threatening to bounce out the window as Kelsey bobbed and weaved through traffic. I flashed on the pack of Kools that had done the same dance in Danny's Escort three years ago. I should never have left him alone that night. Never again.

"The bag in the back," I said. "There's a whole lot of money in it and some DVDs. Take the bag home after you drop me off and keep it safe until you hear from me."

"You robbed someone. A bank? One of Danny's old dealers?" She pounded her hand on the steering wheel. "I am such an asshole. I gave you my fucking gun. You motherfucker." Kelsey hit the brakes and swerved onto the shoulder.

"No, no. Keep driving," I protested. "It's Danny's money. No one is after us, I promise. It's the DVDs that matter."

"Kevin!" Kelsey shouted. She gunned the engine and threw us back out into traffic.

"If you don't hear from me," I said, "the DVDs go to the FBI." I swallowed hard. I lit another smoke off the first. "It's child porn. Danny pulled it off Whitestone's computer. Promise me you won't look at it."

"Wait, what? Child porn? " Kelsey started crying. "All I wanted was to see what you were like in real life, maybe in bed, before I moved to cold-ass Chicago where all I could do was wonder. I never woulda come up with this. Christ Almighty."

"Turn right up there," I said. "That's the park entrance, right around the corner."

We slammed to a stop in the parking lot and tumbled out of the car. Kelsey grabbed the bag from the backseat and tossed it in the trunk. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket. I raced around the car and squeezed it shut in her hand.

"Ow, Kevin, that hurt."

"What're you doing?"

"I'm calling the fucking cops," she said. "Like I shoulda done this morning. This is nuts."

"No. No cops."

"Why not?" Kelsey asked. "You said you guys didn't do anything illegal."

"I said we didn't rob anyone."

She flipped the phone open. I lunged for it but she was too quick. She held the phone high above her head. But she wasn't dialing.

"Danny's got Whitestone at Bloodroot," I said. "As a hostage."

I thought about making another move for the cell. The look on Kelsey's face told me I'd be trading in my testicles for that phone. I didn't want to fight her for it. I wasn't sure I could win.

"He's gonna kill him," I said. "Over those DVDs."

"Kill him?" She blinked at me like I'd just told her I was from Jupiter. "Your brother's gonna kill Dean Whitestone? Over child porn? This is so fucked up."

"I can stop it," I said. "I don't need the cops. You and me can go back to your place later, get drunk, roll around, and forget this ever happened, that we were ever here."

Kelsey snorted. "Fat chance."

"Take the bag back home. I'll be there soon."

"It'll be safe in the trunk for now," Kelsey said. "I'll hide it in the house when we get home."

I backed away from her. "You're not coming with me. Stop fucking arguing with me. Someone's gonna get killed."

"It ain't gonna be you." Kelsey strode forward, shaking the phone at me like a weapon. "Either I go with you or I call nine-one-one. Those are your only options."

Jesus, this woman was as stubborn as my brother. I wished Danny would've just shot me at the apartment. If he were here, I thought, what would he do? Cut a deal, I heard him say. Give something to get your way.

"Okay," I said. "How's this? Give me half an hour then call that cop from your building. Tell him Al Bruno's up to his old tricks. Tell him whatever you want, just get him out here alone." I backed up a few more steps. "Deal?"

"Fifteen minutes."

I couldn't get to Bloodroot and back in fifteen. It didn't matter what time we picked. She was going to give me three minutes, maybe five once I took off.

"You wait here for Waters," I said. "You'll have to lead him in. If you hang a right at the last backstop, there's a trail. You gotta look for it. It looks like it dead-ends in the woods but if you keep going, you'll come out into the graveyard. You can see Bloodroot from there."

"What if Danny's not there?" Kelsey asked. "Then what?"

No chance. I knew in my heart he was there. "Then we go home," I said, "and wait for him to find us."

I BOOKED IT ACROSS THE FIELDS, jumping and shoving my way through parents leading their kids to their cars. I broke through one all-American family after another, separating husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, the groups re-congealing behind me as I ran. For a second I worried about one of them calling the cops, but I knew none of them would be willing to put off dinner and TV long enough to wait around for the police.

The late afternoon sky was overcast, weakening the daylight, but I had enough to find the trail and duck into the woods. Even if Kelsey had already called, by the time Waters got to the park the sun would be dipping into the tops of the trees, filling the woods with shadows. The darkness would make them cautious, slow them down. That was all I needed. Just a little more time than she was willing to give me.

I fought my way through the woods as fast as I could, sliding all over on the dead leaves. Thorns and dead branches scratched at my shirt and skin, a few drawing blood. I tried pretending I was twelve years old again and chasing my brother along this very trail, or through the snows of our long-ago camping trip. We'd been the hunters then, too. And we'd arrived too late to stop the blood from spilling.

My brain worked overtime on the past but my body betrayed me in the present. I tripped over a tree root and, stumbling off the trail and into the brush, rolled my ankle. Limping back onto the trail, I tried forcing my brain to defer the pain and file the accident away for future reference, but the future proved to be about six steps away. My chest heaved, granules of glass burning my lungs at every breath. Why had I started smoking again? When had this trail gotten so fucking long?

Finally, I spilled head over heels out of the woods and into the graveyard just like I had the last time I'd met Danny there, knocking the last of the breath from my lungs. My heart beat into the earth like it wanted to break free and burrow away and hide. Was this how it would go down?

Me on my face gasping like an old man with heart failure, my brother only three hundred feet and a few flights of stairs away, shooting his life to hell?

Prone in the grass, I gathered what new air I could. I struggled to my feet and climbed over the wall. Hobbling now, I jogged across the graveyard and up the hill to Bloodroot. Heavy clouds, outlined in fire, moved over the sun. The eerie, marigold glow of a false sunset settled over the field. Shadows oozed down the walls of the asylum like spilled ink. I had no flashlight to guide me through the building. I started running again, wincing in pain every time my ankle hit the ground. If things did go to hell, it wouldn't be because I gave up.

I ducked under the boards over the front door and wandered into the lobby, calling my brother's name. No surprise, he didn't answer. I limped across the tile. The Vandals and Goths had been at it again. The place reeked of burnt things, the odor rank enough to make my eyes water and to make me wish for one of Al's cologne-soaked bandannas. I covered my mouth and nose with my hand. It didn't help much. My hand stank of old cigarettes.

I started up the stairs, leaning on the greasy railing with my free hand, keeping what weight I could off my leg.

Walking the halls, peering into the labs and shouting Danny's name, I found nothing. Frustrated, I tried to be grateful that I hadn't tripped over Whitestone's dead body. I stopped on the landing of the third floor, leaning on the wall to give my ankle a break. Moldy paint flaked off the walls everywhere I touched. I tried to catch my breath but all I did was choke. The higher I climbed through the building the worse the burning smell became. Acidic and sweet, it burned like chemical steam. Alcohol. Formaldehyde. Heroin simmering in a black spoon.

I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes. If I was going to find Danny, I had to stop thinking like me and start thinking like him. Danny had cracked wise about justice before running out of the apartment. That's what had brought me to Bloodroot.

In Danny's brain, this hell house was the only logical place to bring a man he'd caught victimizing children. My brother could say what he wanted about protecting those kids, but he always took something for himself. He wouldn't miss the chance to strike down some of his own phantoms, even if it had to be by proxy. Once he was here, then, what was the next step? I'd already come up empty in the labs. The room where that picture had been taken? The one he showed me at our folks' house? I had no idea where that was. I could've been through it already.

No. Not there. His old room. Where he'd first heard that terrible scratching that still haunted his nights.

I began my long trek up the stairs, the awful fumes settling like fog over my throat and into my stomach.

As I neared the top floor, I wondered if what I was inhaling was getting to my head. I heard strange scratchings, bumpings, and chirpings in the walls all around me, above me in the ceiling.

I ignored the noises, trying not to think about what made them. When I made the top floor, I didn't even bother calling for my brother. He was either in that room or he wasn't. And if that room was empty, I was out of ideas.

Nearing the end of the hall, I heard something else over the sounds in the walls, sounds that told me I'd picked the right place to look. A grown man was softly crying, fighting for breath and words as sobs broke apart his voice. Another voice, unintelligible, spoke in stern, definite tones.

Whitestone and Danny, with Al standing silent watch.

Outside Danny's old room, I stopped, pinned myself against the wall. Should I announce myself so that Al didn't shoot me on sight? I licked my lips but my brother's name died in my throat. I couldn't imagine what I was about to see. How would I not see it again every time I closed my eyes? I turned the corner.

The room was empty.

Impossible.

I turned circles in place, balancing on my good leg. There was no place to hide, no closets, no anterooms. The room was too small, the sunlight still strong enough to reveal the corners. I hadn't hallucinated those voices. I had followed them here. I still heard them. Something low on the wall caught my eye, a wet and glistening stain.

I staggered over and crouched, reaching out before I could think to stop myself. My fingertips came away dark red and sticky. Tiny shreds of flesh stuck in the blood. Whitestone's one chance at salvation had been clawing his way out of the room. I'd made the right choice. I'd just arrived too late. With nowhere else to do it, I wiped the remains of Whitestone's fingers on my pants.

From where, then, came the voices? I looked up. From above me. They came from the roof. I was hearing them through the window.

The window was barred. There was no way up from inside the room. Nothing outside in the hall.

I headed back to the stairs. At the landing, set back in the shadows was a steel staircase. It led up to a single black door.

At the top step, I tried the handle. Unlocked. Still the door wouldn't budge. I leaned into it and the door gave but didn't open. Stuck or blocked. I pushed harder and it gave some more, a few inches. A slice of dim sunlight fell through the crack onto my legs. I put my back to the door and shoved, my bum ankle screaming at me. The door opened just enough for me to squeeze out onto the roof.

I fell over something heavy, whatever it was Danny had used to block the door, landing hard on my hands and knees. I righted myself, brushing my hands on my shirt, and turned to look at what had tripped me. My breath died in my chest. I'd tripped over Al's dead body, lying facedown at my feet. I stood in the pool of blood seeping from his ruined head. I stumbled out of the puddle, staggering dangerously close to the edge of the roof. I looked over at my brother.

Whitestone, alive, lay crumpled in a fetal position at Danny's feet. Danny's gun hung at the end of his limp arm, an afterthought, as if its necessity had passed. He stared at me from behind his sunglasses. "Wow."

"Let him go," I said. "Leave him here and come with me."

"Eventually," Danny said. "But not yet. I'm not done."

I walked toward him. He watched me, his head tilted to the side, raising the gun to his shoulder, barrel pointed at the fiery ginger sky.

"Careful, careful," he said. "What'd our old Spanish teacher used to say? Cuidado, Senor."

"You shoot me up here," I said, "and you either gotta carry me down all those stairs or throw me off the roof."

At the sound of my voice, Whitestone dropped his bleeding hands from his eyes. The fingertips looked chewed by rats. He turned his head toward me, searching for me by sound like a blind man, both eyes swollen nearly shut. Danny had beaten the shit out of him.

"Kevin?" Whitestone croaked. "Kevin, is that you? Oh, thank God."

Danny kicked him. "Shut the fuck up." For the first time that day, he sounded angry.

"Police. You brought police."

I stared at Whitestone, bile rising in my throat. I was disgusted to even hear him speak, to have anything remind me he was human, that he was even the same species as me.

"Well, answer the man," Danny said. "I kinda need to know myself anyway."

"No," I said. Technically, it wasn't a lie. "No, I didn't bring the police. I'm not here to save you, Whitestone. I could give a fuck about you." I stepped closer to my brother. "Danny, leave it here.

For chrissakes, stop and think. Look at what this is doing to you. Look at what you did to Al."

With a heavy sigh, Danny glanced over at Al, looking at him like he couldn't remember how the dead man got there. "Yeah, Al. I feel bad about that."

"Jesus, Danny. Why?"

"I talked to Bavasi last night after I dropped you at Kelsey's. He'd called Al off you and Kelsey before we ever got a chance to talk about it. So I got to thinking. Who else lives in Kelsey's building?"

"Waters," I said. "The cop."

Danny tapped the barrel of his gun to his temple. "Indeed. It would make sense." He shrugged, gazing sadly at Al, as if the dead man was a favorite toy broken beyond repair. "Al knew he was running out of chances with Santoro. He probably thought Waters could save his life."

"You know this for sure?" I asked. "We've known Al half our lives. I thought you owed him."

"I did ask about Waters," Danny said, "before, well, you know. Al's an awful fucking liar, especially when he's nervous." He kicked at Whitestone, who pawed at Danny's shoes.

"They weren't mine," Whitestone said.

"So you killed him?" I said.