Page 47 of Winning Bid

During Anderson’s convalescence, Moss came to the apartment with relative frequency, so it’s not like I’m not familiar with the man. He’s always been nothing but polite and kind to me. I have no personal reason to fear him. But there is something at his edges that sends a lick of frisson through me.

I know Anderson trusts the guy, and I trust Anderson, so I should extend that to Moss. But I can’t. Something about him puts me on edge. Maybe it’s knowing he’s killed countless people. For now, I try to comfort myself with the knowledge that, even though he’s a murderer, he’s on our side, and that might come in handy before the end of this.

But I also don’t want a living, breathing reminder of our troubles in our downtime.

“Come in,” Anderson says, and I can’t fault him for that, but I want to.

Moss smiles big and friendly at me. “Good morning, June.” Today, it’s Italian with a hint of Russian.

“Good morning, Moss. Coffee?”

“Erm, I do not intend to stay long, but thank you.” He takes off his skullcap like he’s a polite man from the fifties instead of a gangster from now. He’s done the same thing each time he came into our home. Moss is many things, and one of them is odd.

Anderson closes the door. “How did you find us? No one knows where we are.”

Moss smiles like Anderson is an adorable child who asked why mommy was kissing Santa Claus. “It is sweet that you think this is possible. But no. If you pay with credit card, you can be found.”

Anderson closes his eyes and sighs at himself. “Right. So, I know this isn’t a social call?—"

“Da,” Moss mutters with a heavy Russian accent. The guy is all over the place this morning.

“Have a seat?—"

But he shakes his head, a solemn look coming over him. Oh hell. What now?

“Okay, then out with it.”

“I wished to tell you in person this. According to my people inside the BPD, there may be a video of you attacking the haddock.”

I blink. “Wait, the haddock?”

For a moment, Anderson doesn’t speak. He looks like someone punched the air out of him. But then he finds his words, quiet though they may be. “Moss’ code word for Neil.”

I reel on Moss. “But you said there were no security cameras in my building!”

“The conversations have pointed to a neighbor with a phone who recorded it. But understand, these conversations were overheard, with bits missing. I know nothing for certain, including how much was potentially recorded.”

Anderson leans against the wall, then slumps down it until he’s on the floor. Then he just sits there, staring off into space.

If he had yelled, or cried, or cursed, I would be less worried. But I’ve never seen him like this. I don’t know what comes next. For any of us.

25

ANDERSON

Gone. All of it. Hope. Peace. My fantasy of a future with June. It’s all just empty air. My body went weak with the news, and I feel deflated somehow. Hollow.

They have me dead to rights. I’m ruined. My life, my career, my wife?—

A cupped hand under my chin forces me to look up. It’s her. My former bride-to-be. I won’t drag her down with me. I can’t. She snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Baby, baby, I need you here with me, okay?”

Gently, I shake myself free of her hand. “Oh, I’m here. I’m fucked, but I’m here.”

“You can’t go all catatonic on me. We need to think?—"

“I’m not catatonic. It’s just… this is a lot.”

She squats in front of me. “I am going to make you breakfast?—"

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