Page 63 of Walking the Edge

She clambered to the bottom of the wall and jumped. His strong fingers wrapped hers, and she scrambled up the wall. They ducked into the shadows as the trolley car ground past. “Any muscle cramps?”

“No. I’m good.” She hugged her arms against the cold. “Except we’re both going to come down with pneumonia.”

“We’re out of the drizzle now.” He pointed to the projecting roof. “That should help.”

“For your information, it stopped drizzling when we crossed through the French Market. This is a downpour.” Her brother would be facing the same weather and would have had to buy or borrow a raincoat. If he let himself ask. She should have found out more from Justin about Les’s current situation when they’d met. Now, she could only worry.

The streetcar passed them going in the other direction thirty minutes later, with two passengers sitting in its lighted interior. But rain drumming on the shipping containers next to them obliterated any creaking they might have heard.

Cath moved into Mitch’s sphere of warmth. He put an arm around her shoulders. If she snuggled closer, they would look like lovers in case someone came along. So far nobody had. “This place feels creepy.”

“It is creepy.”

After an hour, they hiked toward one end where a chain-link fence blocked access to the levee and a pedestrian walk with benches. She shaded her eyes from the rain, but nobody sat out there. “I don’t see Les lurking anywhere.”

Mitch looked behind them at the wharf. “We haven’t seen a rent-a-cop either.”

“Would he make us leave?”

“We’re going to, anyway.” Mitch checked his watch. “It’s too late for any action.”

“You know this how?” She scanned the visible areas of the wharf, her stomach tight.

“Instinct.”

“Do you think my brother could be on the other side?”

“The river’s on the other side.” He wrapped a hand around hers. “Come on, let’s go.”

This was her third strike. They’d tried his apartment, his friends, his pusher. Where was her brother?

She and Mitch skulked behind the shipping containers to stay out of the rain, heading to the street ramp. The shadows shifted. Her pulse jumped but she took a deep breath. This would be the watchman.

Two men in dark clothes stepped into their path. They didn’t wear uniforms. Or masks. But a strangled sound still escaped her.

The taller one came closer. The shiny image of a sports team’s logo flashed behind his extended hand. “Where’s your green?”

“My green?” Her heart ricocheted.

Mitch shifted beside her. But she didn’t dare glance his way.

“We need to see the money.” A spotlight fell across the second man’s face. Was that an eye patch? She squashed a shudder.

Mitch stepped in front of her so slowly she only realized once his shoulder blocked her view. “We don’t want to buy drugs.”

Eye Patch crossed his arms, exposing the handguns stuck in his waistband. “So whatcha doing here? Taking a stroll?”

A third man materialized out of nowhere. He glanced at the others and lifted a fedora to her. “Problem?”

The guy in the team sweatshirt shrugged.

Fedora Guy crossed his arms. “What’s your name, pretty lady?”

“Constanza.” Mitch somehow sounded normal. “Tony and Belinda Constanza. This is our last night in town. We wanted a walk.”

“You don’t look like no brother and sister.” Fedora Guy tipped his hat back.

“Because we aren’t.” Cath put an arm around Mitch’s waist. “We’re married.”

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