The Night Crew

apartment. He said, ‘‘We really need to know where you got the crank, or whatever.’’
    ‘‘Fuck you,’’ Catwell said. ‘‘You can get killed talking about shit like that.’’
    ‘‘Talk to us, or talk to the cops,’’ Anna said. ‘‘The cops are crazy to get this guy. He’s killed two people and shot a third one.’’
    ‘‘That sounds like a reason not to talk.’’
    ‘‘If you give us a name, we’ll forget you,’’ Harper said, pressing him. ‘‘If you don’t, we’ll feed you to the cops. They’ll be on you like a hot sweat. And when they get the name, they won’t hide where they got it. You’ll be right down there identifying the guy.’’
    ‘‘I don’t have to tell anybody any fuckin’ thing.’’ He walked around Harper toward the door.
    ‘‘You know better than that,’’ Anna said, talking to his back. ‘‘Sometimes you do have to tell; you know they can squeeze you. If you don’t help us, the cops’ll be here in ten minutes. So help: please.’’
    ‘‘You won’t be able to stay here if you don’t,’’ Harper said. ‘‘Your ass’ll be back in Fort Smith.’’
    ‘‘Please,’’ Anna said.
    Catwell got to the door before he stopped. He faced the door, unmoving, for a full ten seconds, then finally turned, and said to Anna, ‘‘So you used to, like, party down with Jason and Sean.’’
    Anna, confused by the tone of his voice, said, ‘‘What?’’
    Harper asked, ‘‘Sean? MacAllister?’’
    Catwell shifted his gaze to Harper: ‘‘You know him?’’
    ‘‘Yeah, I saw him last night,’’ Harper said. To Anna, he said, ‘‘The late Sean MacAllister.’’
    Anna was closing in on Catwell. ‘‘When you said I partied down with them, what’d you mean?’’
    Catwell’s eyes slid away, and he made a ‘‘you know’’ bob of his head: ‘‘You know . . .’’
    ‘‘No, I don’t; but I’ve got a bad feeling about what you think.’’
    ‘‘Well, maybe it’s not true,’’ Catwell said.
    ‘‘That I was sleeping with them?’’
    ‘‘Yeah, I guess.’’
    ‘‘Where’d you hear that?’’
    ‘‘Listen, if it’s not true . . .’’
    ‘‘I don’t care about that, ’cause for one thing, they’re both dead.’’
    ‘‘Sean?’’ Now Catwell was scared. ‘‘They killed Sean, too?’’
    ‘‘Yes.’’ Anna nodded. ‘‘Same guy, but with a knife. Now where’d you hear I was sleeping with them?’’
    ‘‘Uh, you came to a party one night, off Sunset? To get Jason, but he was really wrecked? So you left without him?’’
    She remembered: ‘‘At BJ’s. Upstairs.’’
    ‘‘Yeah.’’
    ‘‘What’s BJ’s?’’ Harper asked.
    ‘‘Club,’’ Anna said. To Catwell: ‘‘So what’d they tell you?’’
    ‘‘That, uh, you know . . .’’
    ‘‘What?’’
    ‘‘Slept with them. At, uh, the same time . . . like in a pile.’’
    ‘‘Ah, jeez,’’ Anna said. ‘‘They told everybody that?’’
    ‘‘Sure. I mean, like it wasn’t any big secret.’’
    ‘‘I didn’t even know MacAllister,’’ Anna said.
    ‘‘He and Jason had an apartment together, over by BJ’s, down the hill from there,’’ Catwell said.
    Anna looked at Harper and walked in a circle around the parking lot, ran her hand back through her hair: ‘‘Jeez.’’
    ‘‘What?’’
    She looked at him: ‘‘He’s not trying to kill me. I’m perfectly safe,’’ she said.
    ‘‘Say that again.’’
    ‘‘I’m not in trouble— you’re in trouble,’’ Anna said.
    ‘‘What’re you . . .’’
    ‘‘He’s not gonna kill me. He’s gonna kill you, Jake. Somebody already said it. Pam? I think Pam did—he’s killing the guys he sees around me. Ah, God: he only shot Creek because Creek was with me. If we’d seen it . . .’’
    ‘‘Huh.’’ Harper thought it over. ‘‘Like he’s eliminating the competition.’’
    ‘‘Yeah. So I’ve got no problem.’’
    Now Harper shook his head: ‘‘Don’t think that. If he gets to you . . . I don’t think you’d enjoy the date.’’ And to Catwell: ‘‘Who all was at that party? High-school kids?’’
    ‘‘I don’t know. People coming and going. Street kids, for sure. I don’t think they were in high school no more. But I was loaded, man, I can barely remember . . . but I remember the story about Anna.’’
    ‘‘Good memory,’’ Anna said.
    Catwell said, ‘‘No, man. I mean, it was like a hot story— what you guys done. They said they were