4:00 pm

Max called an hour ago sounding pretty upset. She just learned that an acquaintance of hers was found dead today.

"Got out of lockup a couple of days ago," she said. "Herbal was hoping to find him some work at Jam Pony. We spent most of the afternoon convincing Normal that he needed another rider. Guess it doesn’t matter anymore…" Her voice drifted off then came back with renewed determination. "Herbal hasn’t been able to get any info from the police. Name was Gerald Wills. Think you could find out what happened?" She paused hesitatingly. "As a favor…you know…for Herbal."

‘No problem." I promised her.

"I just met him yesterday. Now he’s dead." She said sadly. "Thanks for doing this, Logan."

I’ve spent the last hour trying to get some more information on the shooting, but with the constant brownouts we’ve been having, I haven’t been able to get much. I was able to dump a list of similar deaths in the last few days. Six parolees, all recently released, all killed by multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, no witnesses, no leads, nothing. Seems our local law and order types have decided to keep a few cons off the streets permanently.

Max seems really upset by this. I could sense her grief even over the phone. Hopefully, I’ll be able to find something to give her some closure.

6:00 pm

Max came by after work to review the details of Gerald’s murder with me. I wasn’t able to get any additional information online, so she is off retrieving some data disks from Corrections ‘the old fashioned way’, as she put it. Her sense of humor never seems to fail her. For a few minutes, things felt normal again. It was so easy to fall into our usual pattern of bantering. But then Max asked me to have dinner with her afterwards.

Her invitation, coming so innocently out of her mouth, was enough to send me into a tailspin. I have no problems helping her with this case, or even working with her, but the moment she reaches out on a personal level, all my fears and questions come back. So I put her off once again.

Max sensed my reluctance. She even asked me if I was okay. I told her I had a lot on my mind, which she seemed to accept. I doubt that I could truly explain, though, what is really going on with me. Why can’t I reconcile the person I see in front of me with the photos sitting on my desk? Max’s grief over Gerald’s death and her empathy for Herbal’s loss are perfectly appropriate, not cold at all. So is her desire to find some justice for Gerald. Why can’t I accept her behavior at face value? Why do those photos frighten me so much?

4:30 am

"If he gives me any trouble, I’ll kill him," Max casually reassured me last night in response to my concern about her apparent stalker. She made it sound like he was nothing more than an ant that she could easily crush under her shoe. Considering everything that has been going on in my head lately, it was the last thing I needed to hear.

‘Don’t say that!’ I wanted to shout at her. ‘Don’t say it so nonchalantly, so easily, so happily. Don’t tell me that you are exactly what Lydecker said you are.’

I wanted to grab her and shake her and make her understand what she was saying. I wanted her to reassure me that she didn’t mean it, that it was just a figure of speech. But I didn’t do anything. I just sat there, speechless, and let her go on her way, oblivious to how unnerved I was by what had just come out of her mouth. How could she appear to grieve the death of her co-worker’s friend, a person she barely knew, and then in almost the same breath, casually say she will kill someone when she’s not even sure that he is a threat to her? I don’t want to know that Max could kill without remorse. I don’t want her to even hint at it.

But it only took a few words from my beloved Uncle Jonas to knock some perspective into me.

"I’m sure you can see the class struggle clearly from that penthouse of yours," Jonas said casually as I tucked my trust check into my pocket. He could always see the worst in me and point it out with perfect precision and eloquence.

‘Don’t say that!’ I wanted to shout at him. ‘Don’t say it so nonchalantly, so easily, so happily. Don’t tell me that I am exactly like you.’ I wanted to defend myself, but I knew I couldn’t because he was absolutely right. So instead, I gave him a stupid little laugh, downed my martini and got out of there as fast as I could. Even though I don’t like hearing it, I have to thank him for never letting me forget for a minute what his business does, or where my livelihood comes from. No wonder he has always been able to intimidate me and make me feel worthless. He is the one person that knows the secret of what I really am. He knows that I haven’t really let go of his world, that I care more about the security that money gives me than the principles that I profess to believe in. He knows that I am a hypocrite. It is the one part of myself that I don’t want to see. When I’m immersed in my work, I can forget it for a while, but whenever I return to Jonas’ world, it hits me square in the face.

I’ve spent most of the night trying to track down some clues regarding the dead ex-cons, but I’ve come up with nothing. Now it appears that Max’s stalker is the killer. She’s out there trying to stop him from taking out the next person on his hit list. She called a few minutes ago, looking for the target’s address, and when I gave it to her, she took off so quickly she didn’t even bother to hang up. It’s ironic, I spend my time questioning Max’s motivation while she spends her time trying to save people’s lives.

I’ve come to realize that Max and I have been doing the same thing. We have both been trying to run away from what we don’t like in ourselves. While Max may not be blameless, I’m not nearly as virtuous as I would like to think. Maybe that is why Max lied to me, why she froze me out of the search for Ben. Maybe she didn’t want me to see the darkness she carries with her. Maybe she was afraid to acknowledge it. Maybe she was hoping that she could put it behind her and start a new life, a better life. I can’t blame her for that, and I certainly can’t judge her for it.