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“You got it, babe,” I said. Held my breath.

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She didn’t sound convinced, but she was agreeing.

“So throw what you need into a bag,” I said again.

[

“Should I go to work today?” Roscoe asked.

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The way she said it was like a question, an apology, a reassurance all in one word. I looked back at her.

“You bet your ass,” I said, and winked.

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She wafted through the right at the convenience store. Up onto Main Street.

“Foundation’s got a lot of trucks,” she said.

“What is it they do?” I asked her.

[

“Teale runs it?” I said. “Teale’s the enemy.”

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“He’s a jerk,” she said. “I avoid him when I can. You should do the same.”

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“So tell me more about these Kliner people,” I said.

She still looked edgy.

“Why?” she said. “We’re fighting for our lives here and you want to talk about the Kliners?”

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She shrugged and shook her head.

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“Never saw them before five years ago,” she said. “Don’t know much about them. But I never heard anything bad. Kliner’s probably a tough guy, maybe even ruthless, but he’s OK as long as you’re not a fish, I guess.”

[

Roscoe made a face.

“She’s not scared,” she said. “She’s sick. Maybe she’s scared because she’s sick. She’s going to die, right? That’s not Kliner’s fault.”

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I thought hard and shook my head.

“Is it Latin?” she asked.

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I shrugged.

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“I’ll need that arrest report from Florida,” I said.

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“Got to start somewhere,” I said.

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“I need a gun,” I said.

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She nodded.

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“Nothing,” he said. “They took a half hour to tell me nothing.”

“Nothing?” I said. “What the hell does that mean?”