Page 51 of Devil and the Deep Blue Fish

“But you’re gonna help me with the creatures,” Jackson called as Cody disappeared down the narrow hallway to one of the bedrooms. “Gabriel? Cody?”

Cody’s insanely innocent laughter trailed down the hall, and Jackson was pulled forcibly back against the couch by Clive, who had not yet violated Jackson’s left ear with his bewhiskered muzzle but obviously had plans.

THE REHABclinic was downtown, on W, about three blocks from the YMCA. Jackson was surprised to find a shaded spot on the street near a series of large houses with manicured grounds.

“This always struck me as such an odd spot,” Cody said from the passenger seat. “You forget—everybody’s susceptible, you know?”

Jackson had spotted Reba Milton’s restaurant enroute, about half a mile away near N Street, but otherwise he was in agreement.

“You were in the one off Marconi, weren’t you?” Cody’s had vibed like a golf club, set off the road on an unexpected burst of property seemingly plunked in the middle of the city.

“Yeah. Nice grounds. Someone told me they used to have weddings there.”

Jackson stared at him, and Cody shrugged. “Don’t look at me. My dog, the one I wasn’t supposed to have, crapped under every shrub in the place, and I gotta tell you, I wasn’t the greatest with the poop bag.”

“You need to stop talking now,” Jackson told him. “I’m not sure I can trust somebody who wouldn’t pick up their dog’s crap on the lawn.”

Cody shrugged. “Sometimes I’d take an air gun and use the turds as target practice. It was a crapshoot,” he said with a straight face, and Jackson shook his head.

“Just so you know, when Henry’s back, the first thing I’m having him do is kill you. He can make it look like an accident.”

“You do what you gotta. If you think Ellery can get you off for it, do your worst.”

“If they heard that joke, no jury on earth would convict me.”

As they spoke, both of them were staring at the rehab center, making note of ingress, egress, and escape routes.

“I’ll go in asking for a meeting,” Cody said. “You want me to keep my eyes peeled for this Retty woman?”

“Keep for recovery rooms,” Jackson said thoughtfully. “Cowboy’s mom said she had something over the woman in charge. Henry tagged her last night—they’ve got medical supplies in there, right?” It was an educated guess. Recovery wasn’t always a pretty process, and spouses in relationships built on substance abuse often came in with injuries.

“Mine did,” Cody said. “Let’s just call it an unusually well-stocked nurses station.”

“Okay, so you search for that. I’m going to hunt for the leader of the center, be all official, and ask some questions. Meet back here in half an hour?”

“Fair,” Cody said, his eyes roaming the terrain again. “Look, if I get rousted, I’m going out the side door—you see it there?” Jackson marked a small door on the east side of the building. “I’ll go around the block and head for the car—”

“Jennifer,” Jackson said, feeling both guilty and a little embarrassed.

“What?” Cody sounded legitimately flummoxed.

“The minivan. Her name is Jennifer.” Jackson held his finger to his lips. “We need to be very considerate of her feelings. She’s an important part of the team.”

Cody slow blinked. “Oooookay—”

Jackson shook his head. “This is nonnegotiable.” Very deliberately he mouthed, “She will refuse to start if we are not kind to her.”

Cody blinked again and tentatively stroked the glove compartment. “Jennifer,” he said, nodding slowly, as though Jackson was insane and Cody was trying not to upset him.

“That’s right,” Jackson said. “We’ll meet at Jennifer. She’ll be open, so hop in and hide if you need to.” Jackson patted the steering wheel. “Did you hear that, girl? Be ready for us.”

The blinker clicked once, without a touch to the turn signal, and Cody’s eyes bugged out before they hopped out of the vehicle together.

And no, Jackson didn’t lock the doors. He and Henry had never put voice to it, but Jennifer was a 2008 Dodge Caravan, by far one of the shittiest years of one of the shittiest vehicles ever put out. Henry had oncewritten a noteto Jackson, stating that the only thing holding that piece of crap vehicle together was Jennifer’s sour disposition.

Then he’d burned the note.

Nobody was going to steal this car, and Jackson firmly believed that if anybody tried, Jennifer would eject them out of their seats and into the windshield.

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