his side. Just then the front door hinged open and the white-haired woman from the laundry room ambled out, gargantuan purse swaying from the crook of her elbow. She labored down the stairs, grunting from the effort, and paused when she spotted Duran.
“Andrew Esau Duran,” she said, wagging a finger. “Is that you? Where you been, boy? Don’t you know your daughter needs a father?”
Duran held his knife hand behind his back, looking exceptionally suspicious standing among the plants that framed the front of the building. “You’re right, Mrs. Hamilton. I’m gonna set that right. I just … can’t right now.”
Mrs. Hamilton’s face made clear what she thought of that. “One of these days, you gonna run outta tomorrows, son.”
Duran nodded sheepishly. Under other circumstances his transformation from would-be badass to humbled little boy would have been amusing. But he looked so heartbroken it was hard for Evan to find humor in it. “Please don’t mention to Bri you saw me here.”
Mrs. Hamilton held a withering glare on him for a few moments, though his eyes stayed lowered. Then she bestowed her disdain on Evan. Finally she hiked her purse higher on her arm and ambled off.
Something she’d said to Duran stirred a memory in Evan.
“Look,” Duran said, jarring him back to the here and now. “Ms. LeGrande’s always looked out for me, but she has no idea what this is.”
Evan said, “I’m guessing you don’t either.”
“I never shoulda called her. I need to stay underground. You’re just gonna put me at risk. My family, too. You shouldn’t have come here.”
“You shouldn’t have either.”
That seemed to hit a nerve, Duran’s lip curling. “Lemme make this clear: I didn’t ask for your help. I don’t want your help. Leave me the fuck alone.”
Evan took Duran’s measure. Found no chink in the armor. Again and again his experience had proved the old adage that you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.
From the stubborn set of Duran’s face, Evan realized that his little detour from retirement had drawn to a close.
“Okay,” he said, and started off up the walk.
He got two steps before a bolt of recognition pinned him where he stood.
He pictured Mrs. Hamilton’s wagging finger. Andrew Esau Duran.
And he thought back a lifetime ago to a boy with a crazy-ass biblical middle name that no one knew how to pronounce. And to the time Danny had shoved that kid into the kitchen counter, opening up his forehead. The wound had required seven stitches and left a scar like an accent mark over the right eyebrow.
Evan turned around. Duran was still there among the fronds, waiting for him to leave.
Evan said, “Andre?”
Duran didn’t move, but his face rippled with emotion, his scalp shifting. He looked confused, undone.
Andrew. Dr. Dre. Dre-Dre. Andre.
“It’s Evan.”
“Evan? Evan.” His pupils dilated, the dime dropping. “What the hell are you…?” His voice trailed off into a husky rasp, as if his throat had dried up. “Why are you here?”
Evan wasn’t sure which layer of the question to address first.
“I wound up in L.A. because of you,” Evan said. It was, he realized, more of a statement than an answer.
“What?” Andre’s forehead was shiny, sweat trickling toward his eyes. “Why?”
“The palm trees. The big-ass Cadillac.” Evan could hear his voice falling into an age-old cadence he thought he’d long outgrown. “Did you ever find them? The blondes on Rollerblades?”
Andre dipped his head, his lips twitching as if he might smile, and all of a sudden Evan saw him clear as day, the boy with the spiral sketchbook and the infectious grin.
“Not like in my head,” Andre said. “I went to Venice Beach, sure. And there they were. But they smelled like weed. And they had no interest in a fool like me.”
“What happened to you?” Evan asked.
Andre recoiled, amusement freezing on his face, turning hard, and Evan could see the shame beneath. Andre had mistaken the question as a judgment on how he looked, who he’d become, rather than as the inquiry Evan had intended.
Andre’s mouth twisted. “You don’t know me. Not anymore. You don’t know shit about me.” He flung the knife down at his side, where it stuck in the soil. “Like I said, leave me the fuck alone.”
He shoved through the plants and darted up the alley. Evan pursued him. A gate clanged open and shut loudly at the end, and as Evan neared, Andre twisted a padlock back into place and sank the U shackle home with a click.
Evan looked up, but