Page 1 of Duplicity

ONE

Two years ago

“Don’t do this.” She grabbed Arlo’s hand, but he pulled his arm away.

“You’re not gonna stop me.”

Fact was, he had no choice. He’d been ordered to do this, and since Arlo had a debt to pay, this was how he had to pay it.

His mother flopped down onto the ratty couch she always said was better than nothing. More times than not, it seemed like nothing was all they had. So, he’d gone out into the neighborhood and made his own way. She hadn’t complained when he came home with rolls of bills. She took the money and didn’t ask how he got it.

For a while, they had more food. Money for clothes, for her and Millie. He’d bought the sneakers he wanted. Took a girl out for a while, until she asked why he didn’t treat her more fancy.

In the bedroom, Millie started crying. Dang kid was always wailing about something. Hard to believe she was his, but thatwas what Selise had said before she left the baby with his mother and never came back to pick her up.

He listened for a moment and looked around. Soaked up the sights and sounds he wouldn’t know for a long time—maybe never.

If he was lucky, he’d get fifteen to twenty years. But when he got out, his debt would be paid, and he’d be free.

Millie didn’t need to grow up with him in her life. He’d never done good for his daughter. His mom could make her own money for once. Even if Hayden had promised to “take care” of them, whatever that meant.

The two of them would be all right.

Arlo closed the front door behind him and headed down the hall. He took the stairs and went out the fire exit to the alley where a nice Dodge with black windows and an engine that growled was parked.

He got in the back, and it pulled out before he’d even shut the door.

“You know what you gotta do?”

Arlo stared up at the building. At the fire escape outside his window, where he and Selise had lain on that blanket and pretended they could see the stars.

“I asked you a question, kid.”

He turned to the guy in the back seat beside him. Suit. Slick hair. Rings on both hands. Hayden was the kind of guy Arlo had tried to be, but some people had money. Some didn’t. No matter how much Arlo tried, this kind of life took more than it gave. He weren’t never gonna be rich.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, but he sounded like a little kid anyway. “I know what I gotta do.”

The guy up front drove the car from the east side of the city, through downtown traffic, and right up to the curb in front of the Benson Police Department.

“So go do it.”

Arlo turned to him. “Then we’re clear?”

Hayden said, “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll take care of your momma and that baby.”

“Whatever.” He pushed out of the car and trudged up the steps. His last few moments of freedom for the rest of his life.

Not much of one. Wasn’t ever gonna be something, hadn’t ever been nothin’ good anyways.

He stepped into the busy lobby of the department, walked by the glass windows—cops on one side, feds on the other—all the way up to the desk where a brother stood, stripes on his sleeves.

The guy looked nice enough. “Help you?”

Arlo lifted his chin, looked the guy in the eye, and said, “I’m the one who shot that cop.”

TWO

Simon Olson had never understood his twin’s drive to be an operator. Until a yard fight kicked off the first day of summer school before the bell ever rang.

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