Page 17 of Shadow

Right.

“Listen. Keep your head down. Maintain cover.”

Patterson pocketed his pack of Winstons. “We’re close, Asher. If Roger and Destiny testify, we take down the entire syndicate. Everything you’ve sacrificed for eighteen months—it’s almost over. Just stay the course a little longer.”

Patterson’s steel-gray hair caught the dim bar light. He’d changed out of his suit, wore a sweater under a leather jacket, suit pants. The lines around his eyes had deepened in the eighteen months since this operation started.

“And Asher. Trust no one.” He walked out.

Yeah, well, no problem.

Asher waited a second, then headed for the back door.

The temperature had dropped, and the wind carried an edge. He got into his truck, started the engine, and let the heat blast.

For a second, he debated returning to Riley’s.

Nope.

He headed east, toward the Southwold part of the city. His apartment building sat on a shadowed street, the one-bedroom unit that he’d rented furnished located three stories up, no elevator.

He climbed the stairs, unlocked his door, punched in the security code, and let himself in. The blinds were closed, the light glaring as he turned on the overhead in the kitchen. Dirty Formica, an old electric stove, a metal table, a couple folding chairs.

And in the family room, a faux leather sofa, so worn he’d thrown a blanket over it. He emptied his pockets and saw he’d gotten a message during his shakedown with Patterson.

He pulled up the voicemail. “Hi, honey, it’s Mom.”

Her voice filled the empty room. “I know it’s been a while. Work keeps you busy. But I wanted to call because—well, your sister’s birthday is next month, and…I wondered if maybe…”

His chest tightened.

“It would be her twenty-fifth. Her golden birthday. Twenty-five on the twenty-fifth.”

His sister’s face appeared in his memory—eighteen, laughing, planning.

“Seven years now, Ash. Seven years. And I still have her ashes on my dresser. We keep saying we’ll spread them when we’re ready, but…I don’t think we’ll ever be ready.” Her voice wavered. “But it’s time. I want to take her to that overlook. You remember? It’s south of Denver. We went hiking there the summer before you graduated.”

Something cracked in his chest.

“I want to spread her ashes there. Let her rest somewhere happy. But I can’t do it alone. I need you there. And I think you need this too. Seven years carrying this. Maybe it’s time we let her go. Together.

“I know your job is demanding. But please—I need my son. You need your mom.” Her voice broke. “Call me when you can, okay? I love you so much, Asher. I’m so proud of you. Your sister would be proud of you too. You know that, right?”

The message ended.

The apartment fell silent again.

Asher stared at the phone.

Oh, Mom. He hadn’t a hope of letting Gemma go. Not even close.

Not yet, at least.

He deleted the message.

Walked to the bathroom. Flipped on the light.

The mirror reflected everything back.