“Randy…”

“Have you ever been in love with a girl with dark hair and dark eyes, Alex?”

I threw the ball. “Do green eyes count?”

“In California, there are blondes everywhere. Just gorgeous women, Alex. You look at ’em, and it’s like you’re looking right into the sun. But then you blink and you look away, and it’s like you can’t even remember what they looked like. Now a girl with dark eyes, the kind of eyes that just go right through you…”

“Randy…”

“That’s the kind of girl that gets under your skin.”

“She’s not a girl anymore,” I said. “She’s gotta be what, in her mid-forties now?”

“About that,” he said.

“Some woman in her mid-forties, probably been married for a long time, probably has a couple kids. You’re gonna walk up to her door and say, ‘Hello, remember me?’ ”

“She’ll remember me,” he said.

“And then what?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t know, Alex.”

“Randy, do you have any idea what this sounds like? I’m sorry, it just sounds so stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. He backed up a few feet and threw the ball a little faster. It hit my glove with a pop, the same sound I used to hear a thousand times a day. It had been my entire life once, just catching a baseball and throwing it back, again and again.

‘Take it easy,” I said. “I’m not wearing a mask here.”

“Just think about it,” he said. “I look her up and I can’t find her, but instead I find you. And it turns out you’re a private eye now.” He threw the ball again. Pop!

“No, not really,” I said. But he wasn’t listening. I tossed the ball back.

“And you used to be a cop in Detroit, which is where she lived.”

“A long time ago.”

“And you still live in Michigan now.” Another throw, another pop in my glove.

“Detroit’s six hours away from here, Randy.”

“I could always count on you, Alex. You were my catcher, man. I mean, I threw to other guys, but you were my catcher.” He backed up another few feet and threw a hard one. It gave my left hand a little tingle when I caught it.