More rustling, and the slow crank of a deadbolt sounds before the door opens a crack. “Mark Fitzhugh?” He’s standing in the dark opening. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Control.
Calm.
“Looking for work, actually. I thought I might get on with you again.”
It’s so quiet, I can hear the hiss of traffic crossing the river behind me.
“How did you find me?”
I’m still in the light, allowing him to see my face and empty hands. I glance down at my boots and do my best to appear non-threatening.
“It’s the damndest thing.” I try to laugh. “I ran into that piano player, Roland Degrassi? Dennou?”
“Desjardin.”
“Shit, that’s it. I suck at names.”
The crack in the door narrows, and his voice drops an octave. “What about him?”
Fuck. “He said you might be living in the same place as before… And here you are.”
“You didn’t know where I lived.”
“Clearly I did.” I grin, opening my arms. “I’m full of surprises.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
A moment passes, and I keep my eyes averted, doing my best to hide the impatience simmering just below the surface, my primal desire to grab him by the throat and force him to talk, confess his crimes, and give me what I want.
“You’re smart.” I nod. “But since I’m here, can we talk? I’m looking for work and with the theater burned—”
“The Hudsons are gone.”
“I’m willing to work for you.” A truck passes slowly on the narrow road behind me, and I glance to my right.
I don’t know anything about this neighborhood. It could be a harmless resident returning home from a trip to the store or a night out… Or it could be one of Landry’s associates making sure he doesn’t need help.
Suddenly I feel very alone and exposed.
Returning my attention, I’m encouraged his door is still open a crack. “Would you mind if I step inside? I’d rather talk in private.”
“I don’t do business with people who aren’t referred to me.”
My teeth press together, but I hold on. “Seriously?” I force out a chuckle. “We worked together for months.”
“Yeah, and you’re supposed to be dead. How do I know you’re not on some revenge mission?”
He’s not stupid, which makes this even more dangerous.
Leveling my gaze, I infuse my voice with confidence as I lie through my teeth. “Because I’m not.”
Several seconds pass. The screech of cicadas slices through the air around me. Frogs cry from the nearby delta. My breath stills while I wait to see what’s about to happen.
The door opens slowly, and he doesn’t attempt to conceal the .45 clutched in his fist. “I’ll give you five minutes to say something I want to hear. Then you’re out. Try anything, and…” He tilts the gun, making sure I see it.
I see it.