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“What about Sanchez’s men?” he asked. “I hear they’ve moved into your neighborhood. That can’t be good for business.”
He watched as Eddie’s hand curled into a fist, and then he abruptly turned around and busied himself cooking breakfast. “Yeah,” he threw over his shoulder. “What about Sanchez’s men? Why don’t you ask them about it? Them sons of bitches been bringing down the real estate value around here. Someone needs to put a stop to their illegal activities. I hope you intend to pay them a visit while you’re in the area.”
“Maybe.”
“You want me to find out if they was involved?” he asked.
Jason knew what that would entail, and he didn’t want anyone getting hurt. Eddie’s form of interrogation could be deadly. “No, thanks. I’ve got it covered.”
“Sure. Whatever.” He turned around and leaned back against the counter. “So look at you. The last time I saw you, you were just a kid. You got picked up for breaking and entering, right?”
“Car theft, actually.”
“And now you’re a damned cop. Unbelievable. You never came back after they hauled you in. What happened to you? My boys said you went to juvie.”
“Yeah, something like that.” Jason didn’t want to talk about himself, especially not to Eddie. After the car-jacking incident, he’d ended up in Judge Banks’s courtroom. The sentencing had involved sending him to a residential school for at-risk youth. At first he’d been resistant, but it hadn’t been long before he’d understood that he’d been given a second chance. Judge Banks had made that possible.
“You still see your old man? I hear he’s living over on Griffith, at one of them treatment centers. He must be so proud of you.”
Jason hadn’t seen his father in over twelve years. The last he knew, his father had been unemployed, subsisting on welfare and had been in and out of rehab.
“I don’t see my father anymore,” he said shortly. “Thanks for your time.”
“Yeah, you take care.” Eddie’s mouth twisted in a semblance of a smile. “It was good seeing you, man. I mean that sincerely. And I’m glad you’ve done good. I mean, who knows where you’d be if you’d hung with me, right?” He gestured toward his surroundings. “Maybe if things had gone differently—if you hadn’t been pinched jacking that car—you’d be the one living here.”
Jason withdrew a card from his wallet and handed it to the gang leader. “Here’s my number.” He paused. “I know you have no reason to want to help me, but—”
“It’s cool,” Eddie said, taking the card. “I’ll keep my ears open.”
He slid Jason’s badge back toward him, and then scooped up his two guns. “My boys will walk you out. Sure hate for anything to happen to a U.S. marshal right outside my front door.”
Jason arched an eyebrow and fastened his badge to his belt, then followed Eddie’s men back to his SUV. It took a moment before he turned on the ignition, however. His heart was pounding, and his old associate’s words reverberated in his head.
If things had gone differently...
Jason squeezed the bridge of his nose, unwilling to picture himself like Eddie. He pushed aside the unwelcome memories that his visit had stirred up, reminding himself that he’d chosen a different path. He and the gang leader were like opposite sides of the same coin; they’d been punched from the same piece of metal but had been stamped with different dies.
After a moment, Jason switched on the ignition. Glancing up at the top floor of the warehouse, he could see Eddie watching him through the windows. Thrusting the SUV into gear, he slowly drove away.
As he drove away from the seedy neighborhood, he couldn’t prevent himself from taking a detour down Griffith Street. He didn’t want to see his father; he didn’t want to see the squalor and poverty in which he was surely living. He told himself again that his old man had made his own choices and was ultimately responsible for where he was in life. But another part of him wanted to make sure that he was okay.
He drove slowly down Griffith Street, until he came to the treatment center that Eddie had mentioned. It was a modest two-story structure with an enormous, wraparound porch. Several people sat outside, watching the traffic go by. There were two old, frail-looking men sitting in chairs, smoking cigarettes. As Jason drove past, he thought one of them might be his father. But without stopping for a closer look, he couldn’t be certain.
He continued down the road, telling himself he couldn’t stop. Nothing good would come of seeing him face-to-face. It had taken him years to set aside the anger and resentment he’d held toward his old man. Even now, knowing that addiction was a disease and that his father was as much a victim as he was, he didn’t trust himself to speak to Daryl Cooper. He didn’t need that kind of disappointment in his life.
