Page 48 of The Broken Places

“Might as well have. I couldn’t save her, and she died because of me.”

“How did she die?”

“Of an overdose.”

“You believe you’re responsible for your sister’s overdose?”

“Who else? I was the only person she had to look out for her.”

“How old were you when she died?”

“I was sixteen, doing time in juvie for some dumb shit. Acting up. If I’d have been out, she’d be alive. I would have made sure of it. I told her I’d always be there to protect her, and I failed. That’s it. She was fourteen years old, man. Fourteen. Some motherfucker got her high, and that was it. One time, and that was all it took.”

“I’m sorry.”

He nods, hangs his head for a minute before looking up.

“What was your home life like, Cruz?”

“Home? I never had a home. Me and Maria got sent to foster care in Arizona, where we’re originally from, when I was eight and she was six. Our mom ... well, I don’t talk about her anymore. Anyway, we got put in the system and then moved eleven times before we finally got split up.” He looks away for a moment before cursing under hisbreath. “I told myself I could handle anything—any shit those motherfuckers did to me—as long as I was there to keep my sister safe.”

“What types of things did you experience in foster care?”

He breathes out and sits back, looking off into the distance again. “What didn’t we experience? Some of them starved us. We stayed in this one place that actually put locks on the refrigerator. Been beat up, slapped around, tied up. There was this one ... this dude with these cigarettes ...” He zones out, then gives his head a small shake. “Anyway, I always felt like I had a purpose, you know, until Maria died.” He’s quiet for a minute. “After Maria died, I joined a gang. I’d steered clear, but after her overdose, I just had this rage inside, you know?” He brings his fist up and gives it a slight shake in front of his heart. “Like I just didn’t care about anything anymore.”

“Are you still in a gang?”

“Nah. That’s why I moved here to San Francisco. To get away from all that. But man, it’s true what they say—you can’t outrun yourself.”

“What’s your drug, Cruz?”

He hisses out a breath between his teeth. “Heroin, mostly.”

“Are you trying to get clean?”

“Sure. I’d like to get clean.” He’s silent a moment. “I’d like to make Maria proud. If she’s looking down on me, I’d like her to say, hey, that’s my brother, and he got his shit together. He did good.”

Cruz’s face contorts, and he puts his head in his hands. “Shut that shit off,” he says, waving his hand toward the camera. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Ambrose sat at the end of the bar in the only seat where the dim light didn’t quite reach. He was faced toward a door that was up a short set of steps. The view and the light from the street ensured that he’d have a visual on anyone who walked in before they could see him. He’d already scoped out the exit door near the back, where he’d slip out if necessary.

Of course you’re still putting so much thought into potential escape routes.For one, it’d sort of become second nature. His job presented risk, and he had to be on guard. But also, he had this feeling that Inspector Lennon Gray would be working this case even harder than she had before. It was the gut instinct he’d come to trust over the years, but it was also that he knew he’d upset her with his deception, and she’d want to know why he’d done what he’d done.

Goddamn, he felt guilty about that. He felt even worse that she’d been temporarily put on leave. His source at the SFPD had told him about that. She hadn’t deserved being deceived, and he’d taken their relationship further than he’d meant to, even if it wasn’t as far as he would have liked. He’d complicated matters and caused her fallout, but he’d caused himself some fallout too.

So yeah, he’d bet anything that, even without police powers, she’d be working this case hard, resentment and anger fueling her need for answers. He had to find those answers first, and he meant to.

As far as this particular lead, she’d have a hard time getting information here. Lennon Grayexudedlaw and order, whether she had the gun to back it up or not. And he doubted she knew how to shrug it off and play a different part.

He didn’t like the idea of her in crime-ridden parts of town and seedy bars like this one without protection, and he was to blame for that, so he needed to work even faster than he had been.

It was good that he was already one step ahead of her. Doc had recognized Cherish, and he had her name. Cherish Olsen. She’d gone through some testing but ultimately hadn’t been a good candidate for the project. Had she gone somewhere else? Answered another offer? Did this place have something to do with it? Ambrose didn’t know but thought it worthwhile to check behind the curtain.

The bartender came over, tipping his chin toward his untouched whiskey. “I’m going to assume since you’re not here to drink, you’re here for something else?”

“Maybe. What else do you offer here?”

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