Automatic sliding doors open to the police station parking lot. Mac's wallet feels strange in his pocket again.
That's Martin waving from across the boulevard. Mac ambles over to the porch steps of an abandoned house. Next door, the Bail Bond Store lights blink obtrusively.
"Yo, free man."
"Guess I oughta get used to walking, now."
Martin smiles broadly, cheeks flushed.
"You been drinking, Martin?"
"Let's just say a certain clarity has come to me."
The air has a metallic taste, as when it has rained. But, looking around, there's no sign of a shower anywhere. The sun has been down behind the Catholic hospital for a while. Traffic is very light, like Sunday. Maybe it is Sunday. It was kind of hard to tell.
"Mac. I have something of importance to express to you. I owe you a tremendous apology. For thinking something, albeit briefly, about you that I ought to, by all rights, have known wasn't true." Martin pops his left palm with a rolled-up newspaper. "Before I move on, I'm obliged to at least say that much to you."
"Martin. I was the one who lied." Mac is blushing deeply.
"No. Don't you understand? What that says about me? That I believed you?"
"Do you think God will forgive me?"
Martin hikes his knee and looks up to focus on Mac's face.
"Well, I'm the last to be considered an expert, but my guess for you would be, yeah."
Mac grins broadly.
"Cause you see, it was kind of my fault too because I gave him a ride one time and we were driving around and I was the one who showed him where her church was at."
"Where he got saved.""Yeah, that happened right after! Lucky for him, huh? A-and the night she—when it happened, I saw her gold-colored Volvo on 165, and I thought she was just going to some little country place to help somebody out.
"I had no idea he was driving it, and the next day, hearing everything on the radio, I went back there to the lake turnoff. And let me tell you, I 'bout stepped on three snakes."
"You didn't actually see him?"
"It was at night."
"That's the story, huh?" Martin holds his keys out.
"Naw, man—I can't take your car."
"Hard to imagine you without wheels. Without the green bomb."
"You know. I'll be rollin' soon. And you'll be needing yours."
"Here's something. With what you told me, they could probably charge you as an accessory. If they care. Obstruction of justice and all that."
Mac brightens. "You think so? It's a possibility?"
Martin heaves himself up. "Well. Time to go." He begins down the sidewalk in the direction of the river.
"Hey. Want me to walk with you?"
"Can't. Know for a fact you wouldn't care for the company I find."
"Okey dokey." Mac goofily tips an imaginary hat. "See you later."
He sits on the steps and watches patrol cars pull in and out of the station lot. Nobody seems to be in a hurry, no lights, no sirens. The sky above the hospital is deep blue, with high thin clouds seemingly about to touch the stars that are coming out.
Martin's keys sit on the buckle-boarded porch near the top step. Mac grabs them and runs down the sidewalk, calling. He stops at each corner to look all ways, but Martin is nowhere.
