LUCAS PULLED THE Honda into the Chili’s parking lot, tucked a hardcover copy of Bloodthirsty Times beneath his arm, and stepped into the restaurant. He spotted Josh and Marty just left of the door. Josh raised a hand, motioning him over.
The two coworkers were already snacking on a plate of nachos when Lucas took a seat. A cola sat at Josh’s elbow, fizzing in a plastic mug fashioned to look like a heavy-bottomed beer glass. Marty had a matching mug, his filled with pale yellow pilsner.
“Hello again,” Lucas said, extending a hand to Marty for a formal introduction. “Lucas. Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”
“Good to officially meet ya,” Marty said. “I bought your book. It’s good. Really good. I sure would appreciate an autograph, if you don’t mind doing that sort of thing.”
“Not at all.” Lucas took a seat and gave the two corrections officers a pensive smile. “Speaking of which . . .” He held his book out to Josh, who immediately brightened.
“Thanks, man,” he said. “How much do I owe you?”
Lucas shook his head and held up his hands. “Don’t worry about it. This meeting is payment enough. Consider it a thank-you.”
“Hey, thanks a lot.” Josh reached out and swatted the back of Lucas’s shoulder, then flipped through the pages of his new book. “It must be pretty cool getting your stuff published, huh? It’s like, even after you’re gone, this book will still be here. Almost like immortality.”
“Well . . .” Lucas gave Josh an indulgent look. “Until it goes out of print.”
“What? Why would it go out of print?” Josh peered at the thick volume before him, then gave Lucas a dubious glance.
“Just the nature of the beast.”
“Ebooks,” Marty cut in. Both Lucas and Josh turned their attention to the man who looked even more like a grown-up Goonie out of uniform than he did in it. “You know, ebooks?” he asked. “Those don’t go out of print. They’re just a file sitting on a server, right?”
“That’s true. Ebooks will save the world. So, Josh mentioned that you have a family emergency,” Lucas said, veering the conversation toward the point. “Hope everything is okay.”
Marty shrugged and peered down at his beer. “Wife’s pop,” he said. “He’s been sick for a while. It’s been a long time comin’. The old man finally gave up the fight.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Lucas told him.
“It’s all right,” Marty said. “The old guy was a pain in the ass, if I don’t mind sayin’ so myself. Never did like me much. But when the wife’s pop dies, you drop everything and fly out to the funeral to hold her hand.” He dislodged a cheese-covered chip from a mountain of nachos, stuck it in his mouth, and crunched down. “You married?”
Lucas hesitated just long enough for Marty to catch on.
“Divorced, then. Yeah, it happens. Me, I’ve been married for thirty years this September. I keep telling Josh here to get himself hitched, but he listens as well as a deaf guy.”
Josh raised both eyebrows at his coworker. “Who am I supposed to marry, Marty? I don’t even have a girlfriend. Besides, mi madre is a picky woman. If the girl doesn’t stack up to Our Lady of Guadalupe, she’s a putana and gets her ass thrown out onto the street.”
Marty barked out a laugh and chomped another chip. Lucas nodded at the waitress who approached. “Just water for me, thanks.” The girl wandered away, and the conversation at the table waned into silence.
“So,” Lucas said after a moment, “rumor has it you may have some information about Jeffrey Halcomb that could be useful? Josh mentioned a visitor.”
Marty nodded and wiped his mouth with the corner of a napkin. “All off the record, though, right?”
“Yeah, sure,” Lucas agreed.
“I’m being dead serious here. Because the last thing I need is to be losing my job, you know? If that happens, I’m gonna be divorced, too, and let me tell you, a sad sack like me can’t afford a breakup. I’m not a fancy world-famous writer like you.”
Lucas bit back a comment. Yeah fucking right, he thought. The sob story I could tell you, Marty. It would break your goddamn heart. Instead, he forced a smile and offered more reassurance. “This will all be anonymous, if I use any of it. This is all for background information, I promise.”
“You swear?” Marty asked. “We don’t have to sign some sort of paper or anything like that?”
“Only if you don’t trust me,” Lucas said.
Marty and Josh exchanged looks, as if considering their options. Finally, Marty exhaled a breath and murmured, “Shit, forget it. Whatever happens happens, right? Dance like nobody’s watchin’.”
“What?” Josh laughed.
“It’s something the wife always says.”
“Oh, okay.” Josh peered at his friend, then gave Lucas a look that swore he had no idea Marty was so sensitive.
“Anyway, after Josh told me you were writing a book about the guy, I kept my eyes peeled. You know, just in case? I’m pretty close with a few of the guys on the row. And we just call it the row because we don’t know what else to call it—it isn’t death row, but I’m sure you know that already.”
“Sure,” Lucas said.
“But even in supermax, you’ve got inmates, and then you’ve got inmates. They’re good men, really; just folks who took a misstep and ended up on the wrong side of the law. Could happen to anybody, if you ask me.”
Lucas wasn’t sure how right Marty was on that point if they were being held in supermax, but he kept his silence, simply nodding to urge him on.
“I gotta admit, though, Jeffrey Halcomb . . .” Marty paused, squinted as if considering his next string of words. “Halcomb is a creepy dude.”
“How so?” Lucas asked.
“That’s the thing. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like an itch you can’t scratch.”