She was going for the gun.

"Looking for this?"

He held up the gun. She cupped her hands though there was barely any light in there and blinked at him. "Myron?"

24.

Why the h.e.l.l do you have a loaded gun?"

Kitty hopped out of bed and looked under a closed window shade. "How did you find me?" Her eyes bulged. "My G.o.d, were you followed?"

"What? No."

"Are you sure?" Total panic. She ran over and checked another window. "How did you find me?"

"Just calm down."

"I won't calm down. Where's Mickey?"

"I saw him go off to work."

"Already? What time is it?"

"One in the afternoon." Myron tried to plow through it. "Did you see Suzze yesterday?"

"Is that how you found me? She promised she wouldn't tell."

"Wouldn't tell what?"

"Anything. But especially where I am. I explained it to her."

Just ride it, Myron thought. "Explained what?"

"The danger. But she already understood."

"Kitty, talk to me here. What kind of danger are you in?"

She shook her head. "I can't believe Suzze sold me out."

"She didn't. I found you from her GPS and phone records."

"What? How?"

He wasn't about to head down that road. "How long have you been sleeping?"

"I don't know. I went out last night."

"Where?"

"None of your business."

"Getting high?"

"Get out!"

Myron took a step back, raised his hands as though to show he meant no harm. He had to stop attacking. Why do we always screw up when it comes to family? "Do you know about Suzze?"

"She told me everything."

"What did she tell you?"

"It's confidential. I promised her. And she promised me."

"Kitty, Suzze is dead."

For a moment Myron thought that maybe she hadn't heard him. Kitty just stared, her eyes clear for the first time. Then she started shaking her head.

"A drug overdose," Myron said. "Last night."

More headshake. "No."

"Where do you think she got the drugs, Kitty?"

"She wouldn't. She was pregnant."

"Did you give them to her?"

"Me? My G.o.d, what kind of person do you think I am?"

To himself: One who keeps a gun next to her bed. One who had drugs hidden in her purse. One who goes down on strange guys at a club to score. Out loud, he said, "She came by here yesterday, right?"

Kitty didn't reply.

"Why?"

"She called me," Kitty said.

"How did she get your number?"

"She e-mailed my Facebook account. Like you did. She said it was urgent. She said she had things she needed to tell me."

"So you e-mailed her your cell phone number."

Kitty nodded.

"And then Suzze called. You told her to meet you here."

"Not here," Kitty said. "I still wasn't sure. I didn't know if I could trust her. I was scared."

Myron saw it now. "So instead of giving her this address, you just told her the intersection."

"Right. I told her to park by the Staples. That way I could watch her. Make sure she was on her own and that no one was following."

"Who did you think might be following?"

But Kitty shook her head firmly, clearly terrified to answer. This was not a place to go, if he wanted to keep her talking. Myron got back on a more fruitful path. "So you and Suzze talked?"

"Yes."

"What did you talk about?"

"I told you. It's confidential."

Myron moved closer. He tried to pretend that he didn't detest every bone in this woman's body. He put his hand gently on her shoulder and met her eye. "Please listen to me, okay?"

Kitty's eyes were glazed.

"Suzze visited you here yesterday," Myron said as though talking to a slow kindergartener. "After that, she drove up to Ka.s.selton and spoke to Karl Snow. Do you know who that is?"

Kitty closed her eyes and nodded.

"Then she went home and took enough drugs to kill herself."

"She wouldn't do that," Kitty said. "Not to the baby. I know her. She was killed. They killed her."

"Who?"

Another "I won't talk" shake of the head.

"Kitty, you need to help me figure out what happened here. What did you two talk about?"

"We both promised."

"She's dead now. That trumps any promise. You're not breaking any trust here. What did she say to you?"

Kitty reached for her purse and pulled out a pack of Kool cigarettes. For a moment she just held the pack and stared down at it. "She knew it was me who posted that 'Not His' comment."

"Was she angry?"

"Just the opposite. She wanted me to forgive her."

Myron thought about that. "Because of the rumors she spread about you when you got pregnant?"

"That's what I thought. I thought she wanted to apologize for telling everyone I slept around and that the baby wasn't Brad's." Kitty met Myron's eye. "Suzze told you that, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you thought I was some kind of wh.o.r.e? Is that why you told Brad it probably wasn't his?"

"Not that alone, no."

"But it contributed?"

"I guess," he said, biting back the anger. "You're not going to tell me that Brad was the only man you were sleeping with back then, are you?"

Mistake. Myron saw it.

"Would it matter what I said?" she asked. "You're going to believe the worst. You always did."

"I just wanted Brad to check, that's all. I'm his older brother. I was only looking out for him."

Her voice was filled with bitterness. "So n.o.ble."

He was losing her again. Getting off track. "So Suzze came here to apologize for spreading rumors?"

"No."

"But you just said-"

"I said that's what I thought. At first. And she did. She admitted that she let her compet.i.tive nature get the best of her. I told her, it wasn't your compet.i.tive nature. It was your b.i.t.c.h of a mother. First place or nothing. Take no prisoners. The woman was a lunatic. Do you remember her?"

"I do."

"But I had no idea how crazy that b.i.t.c.h was. Do you remember that pretty Olympic figure skater from the nineties, what was her name, the one who got attacked by her rival's ex?"

"Nancy Kerrigan."

"Right. I could see Suzze's mom doing that, hiring someone to whack my leg with a tire iron or whatever. But Suzze said it wasn't her mom. She said that maybe her mom pressured her and so she cracked, but that it was on her, not her mom."

"What was on her?"

Kitty's eyes went up and to the right. A small smile came to her lips. "Do you want to hear something funny, Myron?"

He waited.

"I loved tennis. The game." Her eyes had a far-off look to them, and Myron remembered how she was back then, the way she crossed the court like a panther. "I wasn't that compet.i.tive compared with the other girls. Sure, I wanted to win. But really, since I was a little girl, I just loved playing. I don't get people who really want to win. I often thought that they were horrible people, especially in tennis. You know why?"

Myron shook his head.

"There are two people in a tennis match. One ends up winning, one ends up losing. And I think the pleasure comes not from winning. I think the pleasure comes from beating someone." She scrunched up her face like a very puzzled child. "Why is that something we admire? We call them winners, but when you think about it, they really get off on making someone else lose. Why is that something we admire so much?"

"That's a good question."