And if he kept revving his motorcycle, she’d look out the window and see him riding through the parking lot.

The irony was not lost on Will that he’d spent the last ten days hiding the truth from Sara only to find himself stuck not just in the same city, but in the same building dealing with basically the same people. He would do anything to have her back in Atlanta, where the lies flowed a lot easier. In Macon, there was the constant possibility that Will would turn a corner or open a door and find Sara standing there wanting answers.

He coasted the Triumph into his usual spot by the employee entrance. The rain had accompanied him most of the trip down from Atlanta, spitting fine needles into his face. Will’s helmet wasn’t the wraparound kind, but a shorty, which gave his head the minimum coverage allowed by law. It was closer to a beanie. Every time a large truck crowded him on the interstate, Will wondered if he’d actually be able to see his brains on the asphalt before he died or if death would be instantaneous.

The thought was not a new one. Will had ridden a Kawasaki in his twenties because the bike was cheap and gas was expensive. And it had to be said that the sensation of sitting atop a large, vibrating machine was not an unpleasant feeling for a young man with limited dating experience. Add another decade, and the story took a considerably darker tone. His back ached. His hands hurt. His shoulders were screaming. Other areas were equally displeased. Will shook out his legs as he got off the bike. He unbuckled his helmet and peeled it off his head.

“Hey, Bud,” a nurse called.

Will looked up. The woman was leaning against the building and sucking on a cigarette. He’d told people to call him Buddy because he didn’t want to recall his conversation with Amanda every time he heard Bill Black’s name. That his hospital colleagues had all shortened it to Bud was an unforeseen development.

She asked, “Good ride?”

Will grunted, which was a typical Bill Black response.

“That’s nice.” She smiled at him. Her bleach-blonde hair didn’t move in the breeze. Her tight pink scrubs were covered in leaping dolphins. “You hear about what happened last night with them two cops?”

“Yep.” Will pulled the bandanna off his head and used it to wipe the road from his face.

“One of ’em’s in the ICU. Might not wake up.” She picked something off the tip of her tongue. “Po-po’s crawling all over the place.”

Will grunted again. He stuck the bandanna in his back pocket.

She exhaled a long stream of smoke. “Tony says they were at his house this morning. Fools stole his car and used it for the hit. You believe that?”

Will stared at her, trying to decipher whether or not she was being rhetorical. He decided his best bet was to ignore the question altogether. “I need to clock in.”

He tucked his helmet under his arm as he walked toward the door. The nurse took a last hit off the cigarette. She didn’t seem to mind his gruffness. This was typical of the women in Bill Black’s social circle. They expected their men to be quiet, to grunt and glare and scratch and spit. For Will, who’d been trained to put the toilet seat back down before he was even out of diapers, it was like living on the moon.

Or utopia, depending on how you looked at it.

“Take care now,” the nurse said. She winked at Will as he opened the door. He didn’t bother to hold it open for her. He knew the woman’s type, had seen her standing in the periphery his entire life. They were at the children’s home. They were out in the streets. Oftentimes, they were in the back of a squad car. They chose the wrong guys, made all the wrong decisions. The worse you treated them, the tighter they held on.

Will had always known this type of woman found him attractive. Maybe it was the scars on his face. Maybe it was some invisible mark left by his childhood that only fellow travelers could see. Either way, they were drawn to Will because they thought he was damaged or dangerous or both. He had spent his life avoiding them. The only way to hold the interest of a desperate woman was to be a certain type of man. Will had never wanted to be that man.

“Hey,” the nurse called. She stood in the open doorway, hand on her hip. “It’s Cayla, by the way.”

Will stared at her. He was standing outside the employee locker room. She was thirty feet away. The gray dolphins on her shirt looked like spoiled sperm.

She gave a flirty smile. “Cayla with a C.”

Will didn’t think another grunt would travel. He tried to be clever. “You want me to write that down or something?”

“Sure do.” She laughed in a way that made him feel small. “Whatchu doin’ after work?”

He shrugged.

“Why don’t you come by my house for supper? I bet you ain’t had nothin’ home-cooked since you got out.”

Bill Black’s history had gotten around fast. Will had worked at the hospital less than two weeks and she already knew he’d been in jail.

She pressed, “How about it? Around seven? I can get a good scald on a chicken.”

Will hesitated. He knew Cayla Martin’s name from her rap sheet, which showed an arrest for drunken driving four years ago. DUIs came with expensive fines. Cayla still had another thousand dollars to pay before she was allowed to do more than drive herself to and from work. She was also a pharmacy nurse, which meant she had access to all the pills that kept getting stolen.

Cayla stamped her foot. “Come on, Bud. Let me cook you somethin’ good.”

Will was contemplating his options when Tony Dell came out of the locker room. The man panicked. His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he tripped over his feet trying to flee.

Con or cop—it didn’t matter. When someone was trying to get away from you, you stopped them. Will dropped his helmet on the floor. He grabbed Tony by the back of the neck and slammed him face-first into the door.

“Hey!” Tony cried. He was a little guy. Will was almost a foot and a half taller and carried at least fifty pounds more muscle. Lifting Tony off his feet was as easy as lifting Sara.

Will made his voice a growl. “What the fuck did you get me into?”

“I didn’t—” Tony tried. Obviously, it was difficult for him to talk with his face smashed against a door. “Come on, Bud! I was tryin’ to hook you up!”

“I’ll hook you to a fucking noose.”

“Bud! I’m serious, dude. I didn’t know!” His toes kicked at the door as he tried to find purchase. “Come on!”

Will let him go. Tony’s feet slid back to the floor. He took a few seconds to collect himself. He was breathing hard. Sweat poured from his brow, but whether that was because he was high or terrified, Will wasn’t sure. Regardless, now that Tony wasn’t afraid of having his neck snapped, he took umbrage with the rough treatment. “Jesus, dude. What’s wrong with you?”

Will demanded, “Who set up the job?”

Tony looked up and down the hallway to make sure they were alone. Cayla had vanished. Women like that knew when to get out of the way.

“Damn.” Tony rubbed the back of his neck. “That hurt, man.”

“Who set it up?” Will jammed his finger into Tony’s shoulder. “Tell me, you little shit.”

Tony slapped his hand to his shoulder. “I don’t know. Two guys at the bar came up and asked did I wanna make some money.”