“I am the fourth man. I am the one they are looking for. I stand in a restroom stall. I am sweating profusely. I don’t even know what time it is. I have forgotten which bar I am in. I think it might be dark outside, or getting dark. Dusk maybe. Something like that. I am supposed to be over at Harlem Hospital. I am supposed to be in Maribel Arias’s apartment on East 118th between Lexington and Third. But I am not. I am here. Taking a ride on the Black Train. Jesus fuck Jesus fuck Jesus fuck Jesus... fuck . . . Fuck. What the hell am I doing now? I gotta go home and change. I gotta clean myself up and get back out there. I gotta find out if whoever killed Maribel put Melissa in the Sandià house, and if they made Isabella disappear . . . And the Sandià money came from a bank? And Fulton knew this? How the hell did I not know this? How the hell did that one get by me, when some asshole druggie crackhead like Larry goddamned Fulton knew about it? I am losing the edge. I am losing the game by inches.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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