The Last Flight(19)

She pressed on. “That’s a sad story. Unfortunately, it’s not my problem. You owe me six hundred dollars, and I’m tired of waiting.”

Brett hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder and watched a bus rumble down the street, his gaze trailing after it. “I’ll get it. I swear. Just…it’s going to take some time.”

Eva reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of gum, unwrapping it carefully, and stuck it in her mouth, chewing slowly, as if she were considering what he’d said. The men who were trailing saw Eva’s signal and began making their way toward them.

It took Brett almost no time to notice them. To see the purpose in their stride, to see that he and Eva were their final destination. He took a step backward, as if to run, but the men closed the distance quickly, boxing him in.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, his eyes wild with fear and panic. “Eva. Please. I swear I’ll pay you. I swear.” He began to back away, but Saul, the bigger of the two men, placed a hand on Brett’s shoulder to stop him. Eva could see his large fingers squeezing, and Brett began to cry.

She eased back toward the street, her part finished. But Brett’s eyes stopped her, silently pleading with her to change her mind, and Eva hesitated. Perhaps it was the way the morning light slanted down on them, autumn just a hint in the air, reminding her of a new semester with new classes and new things to learn. Reminding her of a life she’d once loved, not yet snatched away from her.

Or maybe it was how young Brett looked. The way he whimpered, a pimple bright red on his forehead, the hair on his face still soft and thin. He was just a kid. And she remembered she’d been one once too. Making mistakes. Begging for another chance.

No one had given it to her.

She stepped back, allowing them to lead Brett down the walkway, away from the sidewalk.

A voice startled her from behind. “Had to be done.”

Dex.

He emerged from the shadowed doorway of a closed shop and lit a cigarette, gesturing for her to walk with him. From behind them came the sound of fists hitting flesh, Brett’s cries, pleading for help. Then a particularly loud blow—perhaps a kick to the stomach, or his head slammed into the wall—and no more sounds from Brett.

Eva kept her gaze steady, knowing Dex was studying her. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged and took a drag on his cigarette. “I know you don’t like this part. Thought I’d swing by and check on you.”

A lie? The truth? With Dex it was hard to tell, but Eva had learned over the years that Dex didn’t get out of bed this early unless their boss, Fish, told him to.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Together they ambled up the hill toward the stadium, passing another coffee shop, its white awning covering a patio of empty tables and chairs still stacked in a corner. The interior was crowded with professors and university employees getting their morning coffee before heading to work. Outside, a panhandler sat in a wheelchair playing a harmonica. Eva tossed him a five-dollar bill.

“Bless you,” the man said.

Dex rolled his eyes. “Bleeding heart.”

“Karma,” Eva corrected.

They stopped at the top of the hill, outside the International House, and Dex looked past her toward the bay, as if admiring the view, and she followed his gaze. The two men had emerged from the walkway and were moving west toward Telegraph Avenue. There was no sign of Brett, whom they’d probably left in a bloody heap. The gallery owner would come across him in a couple hours and call the police. Or perhaps Brett would somehow manage to get up and stumble back to his dorm. No classes for him today.

When the men disappeared from view, Dex turned back to her, handing her a small piece of paper. “New client,” he said.

Brittany. 4:30 p.m. Tilden.

Eva rolled her eyes. “Nothing says ‘child of the nineties’ like the name Brittany. How did you find her?”

“Referral from a guy I know in LA. Her husband just got transferred up here.”

Eva pulled up short. “She’s not a student?”

“No. But you don’t need to worry,” he assured her. “She’s legit.” He dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe. “See you this afternoon at three.”

He headed back down the hill, not waiting for confirmation from her. None was needed. In the twelve years she’d worked with Dex, she’d never once missed a meeting. She watched him until he was past the walkway, still no sign of Brett, and then she turned north toward home.

As she crossed through the center of campus, memories flitted along the edges of her periphery. The end of summer in Berkeley. Eva’s own rhythms, so deeply tied to the ebb and flow of the university, now felt off kilter, pulled to the side by Dex, as she wondered what his true purpose was in joining her that morning.

From behind her, Eva heard someone say, “Excuse me.”

She ignored it and crossed over a small bridge covering a stream that wound its way through the center of campus.

“Excuse me,” the voice said again, louder.

A young girl, a freshman by the look of her—skinny jeans, boots, and what appeared to be a new backpack—stepped in front of Eva, panting. “Can you tell me where Campbell Hall is? I’m late and it’s the first day and I overslept…” She trailed off as Eva stared at the girl, so bright-eyed, with everything still ahead for her.