WE STAND BY THE white van in heavy silence, my eyes no longer burning or tearing. Miller reaches back into his blazer pocket, produces that same pack of smokes. Marlboro Lights. My brand, it so happens. He offers me one and, since my life hangs in the balance anyway, I accept it. He fires it up for me and for a few long moments, we simply stand there, quietly smoking to the soundtrack of arguing cops, busy EMTs, tinny radios, ringing cell phones. Even laughter.
Marlboro Lights“Do I dare ask you what you wanted with Sissy’s body, Moonlight?” Miller speaks after a time.
“I think you know why.”
“DNA.”
“Yup.”
He smokes. Contemplatively. “Georgie Phillips. He cleaned her out. So to speak.”
I smoke. Reflectively. “So to speak.”
“Perhaps you replaced the sam
