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Jesse’s agitation built as he slumped in his seat with nothing to do but watch and wait. He would be in there himself had he not run into a patrol officer at 7-Eleven three weeks ago. Jesse went in with one of Vinetti’s contacts to buy cigarettes and beer on the way to what was supposed to be a buy. A guy he’d served patrol with five years earlier recognized him and came over to say hello. Jesse tried to make a scene, telling the officer he didn’t know him and to back off. But the officer had called him by his real name. There was little Jesse could do. The officer quickly caught on to what was happening and tried to cover, but it was too late. The officer called the UC office the next day to apologize, said he hadn’t heard Jesse had gone undercover. Luckily, their informant still had credibility, and Dozer was connected within two weeks.

  Vinetti’s Navigator pulled to the front of the building. He and another man got out and walked into the building.

  “Vinetti’s here. He’s got Matt with him. They just went inside.”

  “Okay,” Gundy said.

  Jesse was about to check his watch when he saw movement on the west side of the building. A man dressed in a dark hooded sweatshirt and jeans was climbing up the fire escape. Jesse leaned forward, pressing the binoculars against the glass window. The man reached beneath his sweatshirt and pulled out a tire iron. He wedged it underneath the windowpane and popped it up.

  “Uh … Gundy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s a guy on the west side of the building. He’s breaking into one of the apartments.”

  “Stop screwing around, Jesse. Just keep an eye out for Dozer.”

  “I’m not kidding. There’s a guy breaking into an apartment.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, just sit tight. Don’t worry unless he comes out with a TV.”

  Jesse glanced again at the front doors, then back to the west side of the building, where he could see the man climbing into the apartment. He checked his watch again. It had been fifteen minutes. The deal should’ve gone down already.

  “Any sign of activity?” Gundy asked.

  “Nothing.”

  A few more minutes ticked by. Jesse couldn’t sit any longer. He rolled the chair back, stood, and looked out the window. A sneaker, then a leg, then a body emerged out of the second-floor apartment. The man was holding a—

  “Gundy?”

  “Yeah?

  “He’s coming out with a TV.”

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Looks like a flat-panel. He’s making his way down the fire escape. I’m going after him.”

  “You can’t leave Dozer.”

  “I’ll be right next to the building. He’ll be fine.”

  “Jesse, wait!”

  Jesse raced toward the front door of the Laundromat. The burglar was just a few feet from the bottom of the fire escape. An old El Camino sat parked in the alley. Running as fast as he could, Jesse crossed the street and pulled his weapon.

  “Police! Freeze!”

  The hooded thief looked up, his face wide with surprise. Jesse was still fifteen yards away when the man threw the TV and jumped from the fire escape. The TV crashed to the ground, and as the man’s feet hit the pavement, he stumbled, then ran toward his car.

  But before he could get his door open, Jesse slammed him against the hood. Whipping the burglar around, Jesse pushed his head down and cuffed his wrists.

  “Jesse, what’s happening?” Gundy’s voice crackled through the radio.

  “Hold on,” Jesse said as he noticed something bulging underneath the thief’s shirt. Pulling it up revealed a baggie tucked into the waist of his pants. “You’re not going to believe this,” Jesse said into his radio.

  “He’s on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list?”

  “Not quite. But he’s got at least an ounce of Mexican black tar heroin. I need an officer here to secure him.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the alley to the west of the building.”

  “I’m sending Carson to the south side. Take him there. I’m going in to cover Dozer.”

  Jesse grabbed the man by the arm and began to lead him toward the back of the building. But as he did, he heard tires squealing from the front of the building. “Gundy? Is Carson there yet?”

  “No, he’s about five blocks away,” Gundy said.

  “Where are you?”

  “About two blocks away.”

  “Come with me!” Jesse pulled his cuffed prisoner to the front of the building. They rounded the corner in time to see Vinetti’s Navigator speeding off. “I don’t see Dozer!” Jesse said into his radio. “I’m going in.”

  “You can’t. We don’t know what’s going on in there.”

  “Something’s not right.”

  “You’re telling me,” the thief said. “I don’t want to have anything to do with this. And aren’t you supposed to read me my rights? Just leave me here. I won’t go anywhere—”

  “Shut up,” Jesse said, his back against the front wall of the building. He pulled the thief beside him. He drew his weapon and listened for any sound.

  “Are you going to get me shot?” the thief asked.

  “Shut up.”

  “I’d like to see a badge. You don’t look like a police officer.”

  Jesse cut his eyes sideways. “Can you just stop talking for one second? You’re a thief. Surely you know how to be quiet and sneaky.”

  “What about that guy on the radio? He said not to go in, that we’re going to get killed.”

  “He said he doesn’t know what’s happening in there. Now shut up.”

  “That’s a good way to get yourself killed. I always know what’s happening inside an apartment before I go in. I’m no idiot. You surprise someone, and the chances of getting shot go way up.” The thief was staring at Jesses gun.

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  Jesse peeked around the corner. The front doors were glass, but all he could see was a dark hallway and stairs that led to the next floor.

  “Gundy, what’s the apartment number?”

  “One-zero-eight. What’s going on?”

  “We’re going in.”

  “We? Who is we?”

  “Me and the … the thief.”

  “Burglar,” the man said.

  “You were supposed to hand him to the backup team!” Gundy said.

  “Yeah,” the thief agreed.

  Jesse switched off his radio, rounded the corner with the thief in tow, and pushed open the front door. He could see the apartment, its door wide open, no movement inside. He signaled the thief, whose eyes grew rounder by the second, to be quiet.

  They walked forward. As they neared 108, the thief whispered, “Maybe you should take the handcuffs off of me. You’ll probably need them for whoever it is you think is in that apartment.”

  “Whoever has the cuffs on is less likely to get shot,” Jesse whispered back.

  Jesse stood against the wall next to the open door and listened for conversation, but heard nothing.

  With the thief in one hand and his gun in the other, Jesse moved into the doorway. A card table occupied the center of the room, along with three chairs, a phone, and old pizza boxes.

  Dozer’s duffel bag sat on one of the chairs.

  The thief whispered, “Would’ve been a waste to break into this apartment …”

  Jesse tightened his grip on the man’s arm, making him wince in pain.

  To the right was a small hallway. As Jesse stepped forward, he could see an empty bedroom. On the other side of the hall, the bathroom. The light was on.

  A few more steps and he would be able to see who was in there. They both noticed simultaneously how squeaky the thief’s tennis shoes were on the cheap laminated floor. The thief shrugged. “What? I got ’em off a tourist at the MGM Grand.”

  Suddenly Dozer came out of the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” Jesse shouted. “We’re all wondering what happened to you! Why were you i
n the bathroom?”

  “I was looking at myself in the mirror.”

  “Why?”

  “They saw right through me. I stood there with the meanest look I’m capable of, and I don’t know, they just got nervous. I think it’s in my eyes, you know? I look mean, but my eyes are screaming, ‘I’m about to arrest you!’”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m no good at this, Jesse. The only time anything goes my way is when you’re with me.”

  Jesse radioed Gundy to tell him to stand down. “So what happened?”

  Dozer threw his arms up and walked past them in the hallway. He turned and pitched a thumb at the thief. “Who is he?”

  “A thorn in my side.”

  “You still haven’t read me my rights,” the thief said.

  “You have the right to remain silent or I’ll duct-tape your mouth shut.”

  “Now you’re going to torture me?”

  Jesse dragged him over to the chair and thrust him into it. Jesse uncuffed him and recuffed him with his hands in front, then grabbed the duffel bag from the chair next to the thief.

  “Hold this.”

  “Why?” the thief asked.

  “Because now I’m going to torture you.” He grabbed the thief’s hands and shoved the handles of the duffel bag into them. Jesse unzipped the bag. The thief gasped as he stared at the stacks of cash inside. Jesse turned back to Dozer. “Talk to me, Dozer.”

  “I came in, we started talking, nothing big. And then when it came time to make the deal, Vinetti started acting really strange. He kept asking me for more information about myself.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “I asked him why he was asking so many questions.” Dozer shook his head. “And then it started getting weird. Vinetti whispered to the guy next to him and then …” Dozer was staring at Jesse’s belly.

  “What are you looking at?” Jesse asked.

  Dozer pointed. “What’s that?”

  “What?”

  “Sticking out of your waistband? That baggie.”

  “That was going to get my electricity turned back on,” the thief said, sighing, his eyes still focused on the money.

  “Is that black tar heroin?” Dozer asked.

  “This guy had it on him when I arrested him for trying to steal a TV.”

  “I went in to steal the TV,” the thief explained, “and found this in a drawer. Figured it was a nice bonus for all my hard work.”

  “You pried open one lousy window.” Jesse rolled his eyes at Dozer.

  Dozer let out a loud and frustrated sigh. “See what I mean? I’m the one that goes in to make the buy, and you’re the one that comes out with the drugs.” Dozer marched out the apartment buildings front door.

  “He’s kind of whiny for a cop, isn’t he?” the thief said.

  Jesse grabbed the duffel bag, zipped it back up, and twirled the burglar toward the door. “Let’s go. And for the last time, shut up.”

  Ron pulled into his neighborhood and turned left on Glouster Street. It had been a long time since he’d worked this late, and he still had more work to do. He hadn’t realized it was dark outside until he went to the break room for coffee. Nan didn’t sound happy when he called to apologize. The chicken Tetrazzini she’d ordered from Schwans would be cold, but he could nuke it for three minutes if he found time to “fit dinner into his busy schedule.”

  He saw a blue car parked in front of his house, which he recognized as their pastor’s Civic. After pulling into the driveway, he turned off the engine and hobbled quickly into the house. A visit from the pastor after ten o’clock usually signaled bad news.

  Nan sat in the living room with Pastor Kyle across from her on the sofa. Both had cups of coffee in their hands. As Ron walked into the room, Kyle stood.

  “Hi, Ron,” Kyle said, shaking his hand. Ron couldn’t remember seeing him look that nervous since the day he arrived at their church fresh out of seminary, barely twenty-four years old. Ron had always liked the kid. He had a wide-eyed youthfulness about him. A little timid for Ron’s taste, but Kyle was a hard and eager worker, always making himself available to anyone who needed him. And over the past two years, he’d managed to trim his average sermon length from one hour to forty minutes.

  “What’s wrong?” Ron asked, looking at Nan, who didn’t bother standing or making eye contact.

  Kyle smiled meekly. “Uh … Nan asked me to come over.”

  “Why?”

  They both looked at Nan, who just stirred her coffee and sipped as if it were the only interesting thing in the room.

  Kyle cleared his throat. “Uh … well, I’m here to pray for you.”

  “Pray for me?” Ron laughed, which finally caused Nan to look up at him. “Why do I need Pastor Kyle to pray for me?”

  Nan set down her coffee. “Well, Ron, you tell me. It’s ten o’clock. When’s the last time you weren’t in bed by nine forty-five?”

  Ron glanced at Kyle, who looked like he wanted to sink into the carpet. Kyle said, “Listen, this is probably none of my business. In fact, I usually try to get to bed by ten thirty myself, so—”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Nan stood and gestured toward Ron. “I realize the man can appear intimidating when he wants to, but he doesn’t intimidate me, and you shouldn’t be intimidated either.”

  “I’m just standing here,” Ron said. He turned to Kyle. “I’m just standing here.”

  “Look at him! He uses a cane!”

  “Listen, I’ll let you two sort this out. You’re welcome to set up some counseling time with me if you—”

  “Pastor Kyle,” Nan said firmly, hands on her hips, “you told me you could do this.”

  “When you called, you sounded very upset, and it sounded urgent, so I came right over.”

  “It is urgent.”

  Kyle’s gaze bounced between them. “I thought she said you were in the street. That’s why I told her to call 911.”

  “You called 911?” Ron asked Nan.

  “I said he’s going back on the street.”

  “I’m not going back on the street,” Ron said.

  “I’m still not sure what the street has to do with this, but—”

  “Go ahead,” Nan interrupted. “Lay your hands on him and pray the devil out of him.”

  Ron couldn’t help but smile as he watched Kyle’s gaze slowly work its way from Nan to him. “Um …”

  “It’s okay, Kyle. I’m sure I could use some prayer. But,” Ron said, “why, exactly, are you praying for me?”

  “Nan was trying to explain … Well, she’s worried that you’ve, um …”

  “He’s having a midlife crisis,” Nan said emphatically.

  Kyle looked relieved that he didn’t actually have to say it.

  “Why would she think that?” Ron asked Kyle.

  Kyle stuck a finger under the collar of his polo. “She said that you’re, um, you’re having delusions …”

  “Delusions?” Ron cracked another smile.

  “She said you’re …” Kyle looked at Nan for help, but Nan was too busy glaring at the smile on Ron’s face. “Uh, her words, not mine, but she says you think you’re an undercover agent.”

  Ron’s smile grew into a belly laugh.

  “Stop laughing!” Nan said.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Yeager, I can certainly recommend some good Christian therapists and—”

  “First of all, Pastor Kyle,” Nan said, “I told you that he’s thinking about going back on the street to do undercover work.”

  “How would you know that? All I said was that I was going in for a meeting,” Ron said.

  “That was early this morning. Now it’s late at night.”

  “So?”

  “The only thing that would keep you away from chicken Tetrazzini is undercover work. I wasn’t born yesterday. And neither were you, which is the whole point here.”

  Ron and Nan stared at each other for a moment, then looked at Kyle, whos
e mouth appeared to have frozen in midsentence.

  Nan said, “Are you going to pray for him or not?”

  “You’re an undercover agent?” Kyle asked. “For real?”

  “An undercover officer. Used to be.”

  “But … but I thought you were a … a …”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry, I just assumed you were, uh, semi-retired.”

  At least he managed a graceful ending, Ron thought.

  “I can’t believe this,” Nan said, her eyes narrowing. “See what I’ve had to live with for thirty years? He just walks into a situation and takes complete control of it. We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes, you and I, and you assured me you would pray for him, and here he is, and you’re not going to pray for him, are you?”

  Kyle looked at Ron, and Ron crossed his arms, just for effect.

  “Ron, stop it,” Nan said with exhaustion. “Fine, I give up.” She threw up her arms and headed down the hallway mumbling. The bedroom door slammed. Kyle still looked dumbstruck.

  “You really do undercover work?” he asked.

  “That was a long time ago. I’ve been working a desk job, so, as you put it, I’m semi-retired.”

  “So you’re not going to be doing undercover work anymore?”

  “I’ve been called back for a short assignment, but just as a supervisor.”

  “Wow,” Kyle said. “That sounds exciting.”

  “Listen, I’m sorry you had to come over at such a late hour. I don’t want to keep you.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” Kyle shook his head. “It’s so weird. You just don’t know things about people. I would’ve never expected that about you.”

  Ron smiled and moved to the front door, opening it as he said, “That’s what makes a great undercover officer. Good night, Pastor Kyle.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right. Good night.” Kyle stepped out the door. “I’ll be praying for Nan.”

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter 5

  As the sun rose over Las Vegas, Ron sat on his back porch studying files and stroking the fur on his lab, Magnum. He hadn’t slept well because of the excitement and the pressure to move quickly. He still didn’t understand why Captain Gates had chosen him, but he wasn’t going to second-guess her now.

  The back door slid open, and Nan walked out with two plates. She set one in front of him. “Eggs over easy?” he asked, looking up at her. “I thought you were retired.”