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Get to a meeting.
I picked up my phone, scrolled to the Meeting Guide app, and pressed a blue icon with the white folding chair. I thumbed throughthe list of meetings, both in person and on Zoom, a sign of the times. There were meetings at every hour and three at sevenp.m. The closest was only two miles away at Clubhouse 29, whatever that was.
•••
I pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. Clubhouse 29 turned out to be an old house repurposed for events, and a handful of cars were parking on the street. I watched everybody get out, collect in the entrance, and go in together, talking and laughing, like I did in my home group.
It struck me again how we all looked different, of every skin color and body type, shape and size, professional and working-class, driving expensive or cheap cars, connected only by the fact that we were powerless over alcohol.
Powerless.
I started to get out of the car but stopped myself, experiencing an epiphany. It wasn’t wanting to drink that had driven me to the meeting. It was a feeling ofpowerlessness. I’d had it since last night, when John told me to forget about the investigation. I wasn’t in prison anymore and I was no longer a baby brother, but I was still acting powerless, doing what I was told.
I closed the car door and started the engine.
I didn’t need to go to a meeting.
I had something else to do.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Barry Rigel lived in the Glen Meade Apartments, a complex of two-story townhouses with brick façades and builder-grade front doors. Rigel’s house was at the corner of Block C, with an air-conditioner unit in the front wall. The lights were on inside, and the black Hyundai was in the reserved lot.
I parked in the guest lot and mulled over my next move. Neighbors were rolling out trash bins and leaving them at the curb, so it must’ve been the night before trash day. I checked Rigel’s house, and he hadn’t put out his trash yet. Sooner or later, he’d have to. Even bad guys had trash.
I sipped my coffee and waited, looking around. An older man smoked a cigar on his doorstep. Runners in reflective sneakers jogged by in the dark. A burst of laughter came from an outdoor party two doors down. A string of pink and blue lights ringed the front yard, likely a gender-reveal party.
I’ll never have children with you, ever!
I thought about Carrie, then Maya. I’d sent Maya flowers to make up for standing her up, but she hadn’t called or texted. I’d have tofind somebody else to marry and divorce me. I couldn’t wait to meet my first ex-wife.
Suddenly a light went on in Rigel’s backyard, and I watched, riveted. Rigel emerged from the door in his fence, rolling his trash bin behind him. He walked with his head down, a wiry guy in jeans and a camo T-shirt that looked vaguely familiar.
Wait.
My heart began to pound. I’d seen Rigel somewhere before. Then I recognized him, with a start. He’d come to my home group with Brian, the Iraq vet. He’d told us his name was Chris, but that must’ve been a lie.
“You, Rigel!” I jumped out of the car. “You were in mymeeting?”
Rigel took off, running down the sidewalk away from me.
“Stop! Wait!” I ran after him. “Stop!”
Rigel accelerated. I ran harder, gaining on him. People looked over from the party. Silhouettes appeared in lighted windows. Front doors opened.
Rigel raced toward the end of the street. I closed the gap between us. Ten feet apart, then seven, then five. I reached out to grab him. We were almost at the end, then everything happened at once.
Rigel jumped off the sidewalk and veered into the street just as a black pickup truck barreled around the corner. Its massive grille crashed into Rigel.
“No!” I screamed, leaping aside. Rigel catapulted into the air. The pickup truck missed me by inches. I felt the heat of its engine as it lurched to a stop, its tires squealing.
I reeled, horrified. Rigel lay on a lawn across the street.
A female driver jumped out of the pickup, phone in hand. “Oh my God! I didn’t see him!”
I raced to Rigel’s side, kneeling down. “Rigel, Rigel!”
Rigel’s agonized gaze shifted to mine. He was alive, his breath ragged. I fought tears of horror and confusion. I had to call 911. I fumbled in my pocket and got my phone.
