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nodded. “Yeah."
    "And drugs?"
    She nodded again.
    "How much, Georgia,” Blackie demanded, “how much heroin is at the bottom of your duffle bag?"
    "Enough to get me to California,” Georgia told him.
    Judd knew that none of them needed a further explanation. California was three thousand miles away, and if she was shooting up between two and three bags a day, like she'd claimed, she probably had enough heroin in her possession to be put away for the rest of her life, if she was caught with it.
    "What were you plannin’ on doin’ once you got there? How were you gonna get the drugs you needed?"
    After shrugging, Georgia's shoulders slumped. “I don't know. I was planning to think about that on the way out there."
    Blackie shook his head, looking more than a little frustrated. “This guy, Bert, is he expectin’ you to pay him back for all the stuff he gave you?"
    "I don't think so. He really was just trying to help me, Blackie; he's a good man."
    Judd wasn't able to make out the words that Blackie mumbled under his breath just then. But if he had to guess, he'd say that chances were, Blackie didn't believe for a second that Bert was a ‘good’ anything.
    But that was a topic for another day.
    Georgia looked like she was asleep on her feet, and when she yawned for the tenth time in as many minutes, Judd decided it was time to suggest they call quits to their marathon conversation. They'd been at it for almost five hours.
    Just as he was about to say something, Georgia asked if she could use the bathroom.
    "Yeah,” Rebel told her, “it's around the other side of the office on the left."
    As Georgia started to walk, Blackie took a step closer, blocking her path. “Gimme your coat."
    Staring at him, Georgia's mouth nearly fell open. “What? Why?"
    "You know why."
    When Georgia made no move to comply, the relaxed expression on Blackie's face disappeared, and was replaced by a hard, my-stubbornness-can-outlast-yours look. “You can either give me your coat, little girl, or I'll give you a plastic cup and you can take a piss right here where I can make sure you ain't gonna shoot nothin’ into your arm."
    Georgia looked shocked at Blackie's less-than-couth explanation, but did as she was told. “Here,” she said, removing her flannel coat and placing it in his waiting hand. “There's nothing in my pockets."
    Tossing the coat onto the card table, Blackie leaned toward her. Obviously surprised by his actions, Georgia attempted to back away. But Blackie was too quick, reaching out and patting her down before she could escape.
    "Go,” he told her when he found nothing in her pants pockets. “And do your business quick. If you ain't back in two minutes, I'm comin’ in."
    Georgia flashed Blackie a dirty look, but he didn't seem to care. She stormed off and disappeared around the corner, slamming the bathroom door.
    "Christ, Blackie, was that really necessary?” Judd asked, just above a whisper.
    Blackie wasn't quite so quiet. “Yes, Judd, it was! Georgia's a nice girl, little brother, but she's also an addict. And when an addict needs a fix, they'll do anything they have to do to get one. Just a little while ago, she admitted that was why she'd been goin’ for her duffle bag. And she ain't standin’ here yawnin’ because she's tired. She's startin’ to go through withdrawal.
    "We need to decide what we're gonna do, and we need to do it now. It ain't gonna be long before her symptoms get worse."
    That time, Judd didn't need any further explanation. He'd known a couple people who'd gone through heroin withdrawal, knew what it was like, and what they'd suffered through.
    Could Georgia make it? She seemed so small and frail that Judd had his doubts. Still, she was their sister, and she needed them. “There's no question about it, Blackie, we have to help her."
    Blackie nodded his approval, and the brothers turned to Rebel, who'd been unusually quiet. “Reb? How come you ain't said much?"
    "Because I'm trying to