She glanced aside. "It isn't like that."
"It's just like that."
"No," she began. "I didn't want this to be a bad thing..."
"You manipulated me. You took advantage of my friendship. How is that not a bad thing?" My headache started rising up again. "Give me one reason I shouldn't turn and walk away right now."
"Because my friend is in trouble," she said. "I can't help him, but you can."
"What friend?"
"His name is Nelson."
"In jail?"
"He didn't do it," she assured me.
They never did. "He's your age?" I asked.
"Almost."
I arched an eyebrow.
"Two years older," she amended.
"Then tell legal-adult Nelson he should call a bail bondsman."
"We tried that. They can't get to him before tomorrow."
"Then tell him to bite the bullet and spend a night in the lockup or else to call his parents." I turned to go.
Molly caught my wrist. "He can't," she said, desperation in her voice. "There's no one for him to call. He's an orphan, Harry."
I stopped walking.
Well, dammit.
I'd been an orphan, too. It hadn't been fun. I could tell you some stories, but I make it a personal policy not to review them often. They amount to a nightmare that started with my father's death, followed by years and years of feeling acutely, perpetually alone. Sure, there's a system in place to care for orphans, but it's far from perfect and it is, after all, a system. It isn't a person looking out for you. It's forms and carbon copies and people with names you quickly forget. The lucky kids more or less randomly get tapped by foster parents who genuinely care. But for all the puppies at the pound who don't get chosen, life turns into one big lesson on how to look out for yourself-because there's no one in this world who cares enough to do it for you.
It's a horrible feeling. I don't care to experience even the faded memory of it-but if I just hear the word "orphan" aloud, that empty fear and quiet pain come rushing back from the darker corners of my mind. For a long time I'd been stupid enough to assume that I could handle everything on my own. That's vanity, though. Nobody can handle everything by themselves. Sometimes, you need someone's help-even if that help is only giving you a little of their time and attention.
Or bailing you out of jail.
"What's your friend Nelson in for?"
"Reckless endangerment and aggravated assault." She took a breath and said, "It's kind of a long story. But he's a sweet guy, Harry. There isn't a violent bone in his body."
Which emphasized to me just how young Molly really was. There are violent bones in everyone's body, if you look deep enough. About two hundred and six of them. "What about your dad? He saves people all the time."
Molly hesitated for a second, and her cheeks turned pink. "Urn. My parents don't like Nelson very much. Especially my dad."
"Ah," I said. "Nelson's that kind of friend." Things started adding up. I asked the loaded question. "Why is it so important for him to get out tonight?"
Wait for it.
Molly let go of my wrist. "Because he might be in danger. The weird kind of danger. He needs your help."
And there it was.
Sometimes it's almost as though I'm psychic.
Chapter Nine
Boyfriend Nelson had been arraigned two hours before. His bail had been set at enough money to make me glad that over the past year I had made it a habit to keep a chunk of cash around, just in case I needed it in a hurry. I got the fisheye from a hard-faced office matron as I counted it out in twenties. She counted it, too.
"Thank you," I said. "It's a wonderful feeling to be trusted."
She did not look amused. She pushed some papers at me. "Sign here, please. And here."
I signed, while Molly hovered nervously in the background holding Mouse's leash. Then we sat down and waited. Molly fidgeted until they brought her honey-bunny out to sign the last couple of papers before being released.
Boyfriend Nelson wasn't what I'd expected. He was an inch or two taller than Molly. He had a long, narrow face, and I would have hesitated to touch his cheekbones for fear of slicing my fingers on them. He was thin, but it was that kind of lean, whipcord thinness rather than anything that would denote frailty. He moved well, and I pegged him as a fencer or a martial artist of some other kind. Dark hair fell around his head in an even mop. He wore square-shaped, silver-rimmed spectacles, chinos, and a black T-shirt with another SPLATTERCON!!! logo on it. He looked tired and needed a shave.
The second he was free, he hurried over to Molly and they hugged, speaking quietly to one another. I didn't listen in. It didn't seem right to invade their privacy. Besides, body language told me enough. The hug went on a second or two longer than Molly wanted it to. Then, when Nelson bent his head down to kiss her, she gave him a sweet smile, turning her cheek to meet his lips. After that, he got the point. He bit his lower lip a little and stepped back from her, rubbing his hands on his pants as if unsure what else to do with them.
"Save me from awkward relationship melodrama," I muttered to Mouse under my breath, and got onto a pay phone to call a cab. Being a learned wizardly type I had, of course, discovered the cure for tangling up an otherwise orderly life with relationship issues: Don't have a relationship. It was better that way.
If I repeated it to myself often enough, I almost believed it.
Molly and boyfriend Nelson walked over to me a minute later. Nelson didn't look up at me when he offered me his hand. "Uh. I guess, thank you."
I shook his hand and squeezed hard enough to hurt a little. Me annoyed alpha male, ungh. "How could I refuse such a polite and straightforward request for help?" I took Mouse's leash from Molly, who looked away, turning pink again.
"I don't want to seem ungrateful," Nelson said, "but I have to get moving now."
"No, you don't," I said.
His weight had already shifted to move into his first step, and he blinked at me. "Excuse me?"
"I just got you out of a cage. Now comes the part where you tell me what happened to you. Then you can go."
His eyes narrowed and his weight shifted again, centering his balance. Definitely a student of martial arts. "Are you threatening me?"
"I'm telling you how it's going to be, kid. So talk."
"And if I don't?" he demanded.
I shrugged. "If you don't, maybe I'll knock your block off."
"I'd like to see you try," he said, more anger in his voice.