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didn’t mind.   He was a friend.
    When I got out, all I wanted to do was cook.   I’d spent most of my time in the home working in the kitchen, and there was something I loved about the organization and the creation and the pace of it.   
    For the first time, I knew what I wanted to out of my life.
    By the time I got out and was on my own, my mother was in the ground and my father was in jail for putting her there.   It wasn’t hard to see it coming, but apparently no one did but me.  
    There’d been an insurance policy, nothing big, and I decided to put it toward school.   I applied to the Culinary Institute, and I was accepted.   Apparently they reserve a couple spaces each year for people with unusual backgrounds, and I fit right in.
    After graduation, I kept in touch with Sergeant Nash.   I still considered him a friend, and now, as I walked up the steps to his office, I hoped he felt the same.   As it turned out, I didn’t have anything to worry about.
    “It’s damn nice to see you, Jack,” he said.   “When I heard about your father, I wondered how you were taking it.”
    “I’m not taking it anyway, I guess.”
    He nodded as if I’d actually made sense.   “Well, I know he never made things easy on you.”
    “You move on,” I said.   “Truth is, I don’t think about any of that stuff anymore.”
    “That’s good.   That’s good.”  
    Eventually we got around to the diner and the fire.   He’d heard about the case, but it wasn’t his.
    “Does that mean you can’t work it?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I might have an idea who set the fire.”
    “Who?”
    “A guy named Max Stover.   He works at a strip club called the Body Shop.”
    Nash leaned back in his chair.   “I know Stover,” he said.   “What makes you think he’s responsible?”
    “All roads point to him.   I was going to try and get something out of him tonight to where I can be sure, but things have changed.”
    “Damn good thing, too,” Nash said.   “The last person you need to fool with is Stover.   That guy would tear you up, Jack.   What the hell are you thinking?”
    Right then, I felt like I was fifteen again.   It wasn’t a terrible feeling, but it wasn’t something I wanted to get used to, either.   “I’m thinking about helping my friend who owned the place, that’s all.”
    “You won’t help him much by playing games with Stover.”
    “It doesn’t matter anyway.   I have to let it drop.   Ava found out and she’s not happy.   Besides, I landed a job cooking at the Settler’s Club.”
    “That’s great.”
    Neither of us spoke for a minute, then I said, “I came here to see if you could pick up the case.”
    He shook his head.   “Afraid not.   I can keep an eye on it, and I’ll pass along what you told me to the detective assigned, but I can tell you not much will get done on it.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s not a priority case.   That’s just the way it works.”
    “Not a priority?”   I didn’t know what to say.   “I’m giving you a name.   All you have to do is follow up.”
    “And I’ll pass it on, but all we had was a case of vandalism and arson.”
    “There was a bomb.”   My voice was loud, and Nash leaned forward.  
    “I know you’re mad, Jack, but you can’t come in here and yell.   Do you understand?”
    “Jesus Christ,” I said.   “How am I supposed to react?   You tell me there’s nothing you can do about this, and it’s not a high priority and my friend lost everything.”
    I got up and walked out of his office.   Nash said something as I was leaving but I didn’t hear him.   I didn’t care, and I didn’t stop walking until I was home.
     
    ~
     
    Jacob sat on a blanket in the middle of the living room beating a stuffed rabbit up and down on the floor.   I watched him from the couch.   I’d planned on taking a short nap, but all I could think about was Marcus.   I hadn’t spoken to him since the day after the fire.