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man who didn’t seem to notice us sitting there in the dark. I began shaking as Freddie got closer. I was certain he would see me, even if it was next to impossible in the shadows of the alleyway. Still, I couldn’t overcome the thought that he would feel my presence.
    “Come on, Conner,” I whispered. My foot twitched. I thought Conner would have already made his way around to the driver’s side, but as soon as Freddie got to his car and paused, seeing what had happened to it, Conner jumped up and shouted something as he pressed the stun gun into Freddie’s neck.
    The coffee flew from Freddie’s hand, splashing across the hood of Conner’s truck, and Freddie collapsed, striking his head against the Mercedes’ door handle on his way down.
    Conner kneeled. I couldn’t see what he was doing, and I was terrified and just wanted us to get the hell out of there.
    “Conner.”
    “Come here.”
    “Con, let’s go.”
    “Come help me.”
    I sat there for a minute, wondering what to do. Everything was so quiet and dark. Finally, I put my clothes and shoes down on the floor between my feet.
    I opened the door and stepped out into the alley.
    Conner had bound Freddie’s hands and feet with double loops of those black zip ties. Freddie’s eyes were closed and there was a jagged cut on his forehead, a small circle of blood on the pavement next to the Mercedes’ front tire. And Conner had opened that package of pills and was using his thumb to force one down into Freddie’s throat.
    “Conner, quit it.”
    “Too late,” Conner whispered. “He swallowed it. Now come help me.”
    “How bad is he hurt?”
    “He’s not hurt. He’s just knocked out, I think,” Conner said. He wiped the spit off his thumb onto his T-shirt. “Well, he’s going to be knocked out now, that’s for sure.”
    Conner looked at me and smiled. He had that familiar expression of his: He was winning the game. I lowered my eyes to Freddie Horvath. He looked sick and weak, nothing like the monster I kept imagining since I’d gotten away from him.
    I kicked him in the ribs as hard as I could. His eyes came open for a brief second, like he was a water balloon and the pressure of my kick nearly popped him open.
    “Hell yeah!” Conner said.
    I kicked Freddie again and a faint moaning wheeze fluttered from his lips. Then I spit on him.
    I was breathing hard, excited and nervous. I looked quickly in both directions, up and down the alley, but I suddenly felt more awake and energized than I had since the night of Conner’s party.
    I dropped to my knee, hiding next to Conner between the cars. I whispered, “What do we do with him now?”
    “You remember where he lives?”
    “I walked home from there. I’d never forget it. He lives out in Dos Vientos Ranch Estates.”
    “Jack, we’re going to load him in the bed of the truck and dump his ass at his house. Then let’s call the cops so they can find all the sick shit he’s got going on in there.”
    I said, “Do we have to say who we are?”
    “No. I told you I wouldn’t tell. This way, he gets caught and we get even.” Conner slid the plastic box away from Freddie and picked it up. Then he took his T-shirt off and began wiping down the places where he’d touched the car. He looked at me quickly, handed me the box, and said, “You drive.”
    I turned Conner’s truck around and backed up to where Freddie had collapsed in the alley. Then Conner lowered the tailgate and each of us looped our hands under Freddie’s arms and tugged him up into the bed. I’d never lifted a body before, and Freddie Horvath was so difficult to move. We even dropped him once and he landed square on his face. I think it broke his nose.
    Nobody saw.
    Nobody knew.
    He didn’t care about me, and I didn’t care about him—that’s how it works.
    And while we did it, I could hear the music from the coffee place.
    After we closed the gate on the truck, I slid in behind the wheel. I left the headlights off and drove