“That’s good. I’d buy that.”
No one talks for a while, then Candy says, “I don’t want to have to lie for you again.”
“You won’t. And thanks for saving me back there.”
“I had to. You still owe me brass knuckles.”
“I’m working on it.”
“You better be.”
“You’ve got to admit, though. The thing with the cars. That was a rush back there.”
“Yeah, it was,” she says. “Poor stupid Moore.”
“Poor? An ECG employee is going to get priority treatment. They’re probably processing his blue yonder right now. He’s going to be fine.”
“I wonder what he’ll end up doing?”
“Probably babysitting his Smoking Gun goons. Once a company man . . .”
“Always a company man.”
WHEN WE GET back to Max Overdrive, Kasabian and Vincent are sitting on the step by the front door. Kasabian is eating a donut and Vincent is sniffing the bag like a starving dog.
I park and we go over.
“Knock it off,” I tell Vincent. “You look like my grandma huffing paint.”
“Sorry,” he says, and sets the bag on the step. “It just smells nice.”
“What’s going on?” says Candy.
Kasabian hooks a thumb over his shoulder. There’s a piece of paper glued to the door and chains on the lock. Candy shades her eyes so she can read the notice.
“It’s from the county,” she says. “It has something to do with the eminent domain, but I can’t understand anything past that.”
“Take a picture and send it to Julie,” I say. “It’s another message. More harassment from the White Lights.”
Vincent studies the dents and scrapes along the Crown Vic’s side.
“What happened to your car?” he says.
“A Nazi tried to run me down.”
He looks at the locked door, then to me.
“I think the Nazis are winning.”
“He’s right,” says K
asabian.
He gets up and clanks over to me.
“You can do something, right? Just break the door down.”
“I wouldn’t try,” says Candy.