"Were you up at the Longmont County Courthouse yesterday afternoon?" The way DeSouza asked meant he already knew the answer.

"Yeah. I told you I had some loose ends to tie up on the Olisky case."

"Was this before or after you phoned in sick with 'food poisoning'?"

I wanted to say "before, because that's how time works, a.s.shole." But I bit my tongue. I was still hoping that one bulls.h.i.t sick day wasn't going to snuff my chances at Concord.

"I got a phone call this morning, Jay. From the Longmont County Courthouse. Where you were yesterday, asking to review confidential court doc.u.ments. Hara.s.sing a clerk into making unauthorized Xeroxed copies-"

"That's not what happened."

"As a representative of NorthEastern Insurance, you can't barge onto state property, demanding-"

"I didn't demand anything. I went to the courthouse because Donna Olisky-one of our policyholders-called me in a panic, worried about her son."

"I thought I told you to forget about the Olisky case?"

"Sorry, Andy," I said, not sorry at all. "Donna Olisky reached out to me, personally, and asked for my help, after the police had picked up her only child. I thought as a 'representative of NEI' that it might be in our best interest to go that extra mile for a client. Especially one we'd just denied a claim on. Y'know, because, above all, we're in a service industry."

When I said the words aloud I almost bought the excuse myself. Advocating for a client would've been the right thing to do. But DeSouza didn't even acknowledge my stalwart defense or generosity.

"Why were you digging into Judge Roberts' sentencing history?"

"I wasn't. Who told you that? I don't even know who Judge Roberts is. I don't know what you're talking about, man." I tried to remember if Nicki had given me the name of the judge who'd sentenced Brian to North River. Judge Roberts sounded familiar.

"I am trying hard to make this work, Jay. I like to believe I'm a fair boss. I may get on an employee when I think they can do better. But I pride myself on being fair. When someone does good work, I let them know." He made sure he had my attention. "I let you know you did a good job yesterday, didn't I?"

How magnanimous.

"For this to be a successful partnership, though, it has to work the other way too. A two-way street. Respect. Give and take." He did that annoying thing where he alternated a finger between the two of us as if we were tied together by an invisible, affirming string. "I don't appreciate being lied to."

"I'm not lying to you. I drove up to Longmont because Donna Olisky asked me to check on her son. She was stuck at work. I asked a clerk what happened to Brian. That's it."

"Nicole Parker."

"Huh?"

"The clerk you asked. Her name was Nicole Parker."

Of course he meant Nicki. I could feel the setup. Nicki. The courthouse. Those s.h.i.t-kicker cops. The way Donna Olisky's phone calls suddenly stopped. Now this. I didn't know the angle just yet. Only that the hook was in, the fix on, and I was taking the fall.

I stared at a huge poster behind his desk, the one with the adorable, mewling kitten dangling from a ball of yarn, clinging for dear life. The caption read, "Hang in There."

"Your friend Nicole-"

"We're not friends. I met the girl yesterday."

"Whatever you two are, Nicole was caught photocopying sealed court doc.u.ments. Cla.s.sified court doc.u.ments. Red-handed. That is a serious offense. And when they asked her what she was doing, she said the papers had been requisitioned by Jay Porter of NorthEastern Insurance."

"That's bulls.h.i.t. I didn't ask that girl to unseal anything."

DeSouza held up a hand. "I'm not interested in excuses." He walked around his desk, sitting on the front edge, leg draped casual, his man-of-the-people pose, tone dropping to dulcet. "I went to bat for you. The court can discipline its employee how they see fit. For my part, I'm willing to let this oversight slide. This time. It's obvious you're going through something right now." His gaze washed over my disheveled appearance, lingering on the bedhead and stubble I'd neglected to shave. Even after I showered and tended to the wounds, my face still betrayed an a.s.s whooping. "You look like you didn't get much sleep last night. Is everything okay on the home front?"

My first instinct was to say "None of your f.u.c.king business." But then I recognized a branch being extended to a drowning man. I only had to grab hold and hang on.

"No," I said. "My wife and I are going through a rough patch right now. This last year has been hard on us." I drew out the pregnant pause. "She thought when I started this job, we'd be moving down to Concord. The big city. Y'know? A new start."

DeSouza nodded like he understood.

"She took my son to her mom's in Burlington. Yesterday when I called you, I was already halfway there. I missed them. I wanted to see my family. I took advantage. I'm sorry for lying to you."

Which was the truth, minus the sorry part, even though I resented having to be straight up with a tool like DeSouza. Something must've struck a deeper chord, because his entire demeanor changed.

"Why don't you go home," he said.

"You're firing me?"

"No, Jay. But I want you to take the rest of the week off, get your head straight. Work out whatever you have to with your wife." He came over and reached for my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Family is everything."

I scanned the desk behind him for a Mrs. DeSouza but didn't see one. The only pictures he had were of other dudes in huge rubber pants, fly-fishing in streams.

"Concord is still a real possibility," he said. "But we can't have any more mistakes like yesterday, okay? It's imperative if you want this promotion." DeSouza clasped his hands in prayer. "Take a breather, sort out whatever is going on at home. Do what you have to do. Then get your head back in the game. We clear?"

"Yeah, we're clear." I made to leave.

When I got to the door, DeSouza stopped me. "Do me a favor. If Donna Olisky calls you again, have her contact me at the office. I'll take it from there."

I nodded.

"And please no more sniffing around closed cases."

No problem. Whatever was hidden under that lid stank to high heaven, anyway.

On my way to the grocery store for beer, I phoned Jenny, who still wasn't picking up. I left another message, less apologetic, more p.i.s.sed. We were going on twenty-four hours of radio silence. I knew I'd done something stupid. Still I expected, as her husband-and the father of our child-I'd get the courtesy of a returned phone call.

Back home, I slipped on some sweats, grabbed a cold one, and kicked back with my fat cat, Beatrice. I flicked through cable movie stations, searching for something to numb my brain. TCM was showing Gunga Din, a flick I'd seen so many times I knew the dialogue by heart. The distraction wasn't working.

With all this time off, my wife and son a state away, I knew I wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Either Jenny would return my calls or I'd have no choice but to drive back to Burlington. Which wouldn't end well for me. That was the thing about my wife: you didn't want to force her hand before she was d.a.m.n well and ready. She wasn't ready. But I was losing my d.a.m.ned mind.

Nipping my bottled beer, I abandoned the search for temples of gold on the silver screen, and glanced around this new life I'd carved out for myself, wondering how far I'd really come. Bigger television, nicer couch. More square feet, a garage. Renting a little house instead of renting a little apartment. An upgrade, sure, but at what cost? Because without Jenny and Aiden none of this meant squat. What would Concord really solve? I was seeking relief from something I could never escape. Worse, I'd bought into the fallacy of the geographical cure.

Back when my junkie brother was alive, I'd bring him into rehab to clean up. I'd ask the doctors if we could ship Chris out of state, somewhere to remove the daily temptation. The counselors warned me against believing a change of scenery could provide a cure-all. Didn't matter where your connections were or how familiar a street corner was. If you wanted to get high bad enough, you could find drugs anywhere. Wasn't a place on Earth remote enough to keep you away from you.

Outside, the winds smacked iced branches against the windowpane. I stroked Beatrice, fists filling with white fur, feeling the empty ache inside.

I'd made a good dent in the twelve-pack and was contemplating another beer run before the roads got too bad-I hadn't picked up any food since Jenny left-but decided against it. The thought of walking outside to my truck right then, turning over the engine, waiting for it to warm, and starting down that long, snowy road filled me with unspeakable dread. Instead, I turned my attention back to the television and watched a man die in a pit of cobras. I'd dozed off when someone buzzed the bell.

Jenny had a key. Charlie would call before driving all the way out here, which he seldom did anyway. Which literally left no one else. I didn't have a single friend in Plasterville. Then I remembered those two cops.

The buzzer rang again. I set down my beer, shooed Beatrice off my lap, and went to the window. I peeked into the street. I had a clear view. Didn't see a squad car. Like they're going to announce they're here to cap your a.s.s. Man up, Jay.

The buzzer.

"Jesus," I shouted. "Hold on. I'm coming."

I jerked open the door, and there she stood, Nicki, holding a sack of takeout Chinese.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too."

"Are you nuts? What if my wife was home?" I looked over my shoulder, whispering. "How do you think this would look?"

Nicki leaned in, whispering back, "I didn't know we'd been hooking up?" She peered past me. "Is she? Home, I mean."

"Not your concern."

"I'll take that as a no." Nicki hoisted the Chinese. "Hungry?"

I couldn't believe the nerve of this girl.

"Can I come in?"

"No."

"Jay, I need to talk to you. I know we got started off on the wrong foot, but-"

"Why are you telling people I asked you to unseal official court doc.u.ments? You know how much s.h.i.t I got in at work over that?"

"Sorry. But that's why I'm here. Please. Can I come in?"

I didn't say yes but since she wasn't taking no for an answer I left the door open and walked back in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," she said again, stepping inside my depressing world.

"Yeah. You mentioned that part." I gestured around the house. "Wonder why I'm home?"

"Because you're done working for the day?"

"I've been here all day."

"I didn't get you fired, did I?"

"No. But d.a.m.n close. I'm on the heels of a big promotion. Instead I get a mandatory vacation."

"Where is your wife?"

"That is none of your business, Nicki."

She glanced around the place, at the cleared-out, opened drawers, which I hadn't bothered to shut, the drained beer bottles toppled across tabletops, the crumpled cigarette packs, the tea plates I'd been using for ashtrays, all the telltale signs of a lonely man enduring a prolonged stretch of bachelor. The whereabouts of my family wasn't any of her business, but no point denying the obvious either.

"My wife and son are in Vermont. Visiting her mother. Okay? Now tell me whatever you came to tell me so I can get back to my movie."

"What are you watching?"

"Something you've never heard of. Go. You have two minutes."

Nicki flipped her handbag on the table, extracting banded photocopies. "After you said your friend Brian was such a straight arrow, I remembered a case involving this other girl, Wendy Shaw. Honor roll, debate club, real square bear. She wrote a scathing blog post about her princ.i.p.al. Judge Roberts also shipped her off to North River. Called it 'cyberbullying.'"

"And I care, why?"

"Hold on. So I got curious."

"Curious? Or needed something to do besides. .h.i.t on married old men?"

"Don't be so sensitive. I already apologized. I snuck down to records and did some research." Nicki spread the photocopies out on my kitchen table. "It's not the first time."

"What's not the first time?"

"That Roberts has sentenced kids to North River for minor offenses. And not just Wendy and Brian. I pulled his sentencing for the past six months, year. Even further back. You have to see some of those charges. They're ridiculous." Nicki began reading down the reports. "A real pattern is emerging-"

I clasped a hand over hers. "You can stop right there." I stepped back and lifted up my shirt, wincing as I revealed my wounds, the bruised ribs, my flank a slab of tender discolored meat, red, purple, shades of unknown green. The swelling around my eye had gone down. These bruises on my body had spilled blood deep inside me.

"Jesus! I thought your face looked a little f.u.c.ked up. What happened?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"Sorry?"

"I have to be out of my mind to even let you through that door. Any exes p.i.s.sed you gave them the boot? Special friends of yours who work for Longmont PD? Possessive types who don't take no for an answer?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No? Two cops stopped me after I talked to you the other night. On a deserted road. Where they dragged me from my truck. And took turns making sure I got the message to stay the h.e.l.l away from you."

"I don't know any cops."

"Well, one of them sure knew you."

"He said that?"

"In so many words, yeah."

Nicki wrinkled her nose, shaking her head, pointing a finger at me. "No, no, no."

"No what?"