Page 37 of Nightfire

Harry’s fingers danced over the keyboard as the four men watched. Harry slowed the film down on a slider, pressed a key and froze the frame with the figure dead center. It was Mike, running. His body was blurred but the camera had caught him as he turned his head and his features were clear.

“That was taken at 3:07:45 am, from an ATM on Griffin, about four blocks from Alameda. We can follow Mike’s path as he runs down to the shore, ending up at the ferry at 4:02 am.”

They watched a series of footage clips from security cameras along his route, fourteen attachments in all. Whoever Chloe contacted was good. She obviously had excellent facial recognition software and in a short span of time had canvassed almost all the security cameras in a broad sweep from Alameda to the ferry landing. That took smarts and serious crunching power.

The screen was showing the broad apron in front of the ferry where Mike was jogging in place. Steam from his breath wreathed his face but he was recognizable. He barely remembered the jog home, though he did remember waiting a while for the ferry, on a reduced schedule from midnight to 6 am.

The camera switched briefly to a view of the ocean, and the ferry slowly approaching the landing, then switched back to the passenger side, where four people were waiting with Mike, still hopping up and down.

They watched as five people boarded the ferry, including Mike. The time at the bottom of the footage read 4:10 am.

The final attachment was footage of Mike jogging down to their apartment complex on Coronado Shores, into the condo, exchanging a word with the night watchman.

Mike had said he’d come home at 5:00. It would have been technically feasible—just—to beat Mila Kosavich up at 4 am and drive home breaking all speed limits by 5:00. But Mike had jogged his way home and they had it on film.

“My understanding,” Harry said to Kelly with a hard look, “is that the 911 call came in at 4:02 am. The ferry landing is 14.7 miles from Alameda. Mike couldn’t possibly have been at the woman’s apartment.”

All eyes turned to Kelly. He stood mulling it over, then put his notebook carefully down on the table next to the computer.

He turned to Mike. “Case dismissed,” he said quietly, then gave a half smile. “Glad I don’t have to arrest you, Keillor.”

“Ditto man.” Mike let out a huge breath, realizing what had just happened.

Chloe had set him free.

Sam and Harry clapped both Mike and Kelly on the back and the tension in the room disappeared.

Mike held out his hand to Kelly. Kelly was a good guy. He’d only been doing his duty. “Good luck with finding the bastard who put that woman in the hospital.”

“Yeah.” Kelly’s clasp was warm and hard and brief. “You stay out of trouble, you hear?”

Oh yeah. Mike had learned a really big lesson tonight. Even though he was terrified it was too late for Chloe.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s get going. We still have to celebrate. Our women are waiting.”

Our women. For Sam and Harry that was literally true. They had great wives and two lovely daughters waiting for them. In another world, the world where Mike hadn’t fucked his way through a battalion of women, that other world where he hadn’t met sweet, utterly enticing Chloe Mason after screwing a cokehead who couldn’t get him to beat her up, so she called in someone else to finish the job, he’d go back to his woman too.

In this other world, he and Chloe would have a clean slate, able to start this new fresh thing they had.

Whereas in this world, they’d hardly begun and she’d already learned the very worst about him.

He’d come on to her hard. He rarely came on to women like he had with Chloe. Maybe because he looked for women in low places, they came to him.

But with Chloe, he’d been instantly drawn in, instantly attracted. And he’d—he’d courted her. Focused on her, happy just to be in the same room with her. Knowing something important was happening.

For just a second there, he’d thought he was living Sam and Harry’s dream. They’d both been instantly smitten by their women and look how that had turned out. They were both insanely happy, both settled, both wildly in love with their wives and daughters.

And Mike—idiot that he was—thought he’d found what he hadn’t been looking for. Found something real and true and lasting. Clean and bright. And he’d crushed it with his own hands the moment he’d found it.

He’d never know. Right now a part of him wanted Chloe close to him like he wanted air and water. And another part of him wanted to keep her at a distance. She’d had a rough life and she deserved better than him.

Because who was he kidding? If they got together, she’d find a woman he’d fucked around every corner. His past was like a tarpit. He would never be free, he could only taint her with it.

Harry was quiet as they rode down the five floors. Sam didn’t even notice. He was exhilarated, happy Mike was out of trouble, looking forward to picking up the celebrations where they’d left off.

And, knowing Sam, very happy to be getting back to Nicole and Merry.

As the elevator doors opened, Harry stuck out an arm, blocking Mike. Harry was strong. Mike was stronger. He could wipe the floor with Harry. But Harry had something to say to him and he couldn’t pound his brother. He loved him too much.