The Prodigal Son
Wilmington, Delaware
As I exited the gate, the glow of the fire lit up the sky. I turned the opposite way to avoid running into any cops who might be coming. There was a chance some would be heading in from the north, but I doubted it. From the back seat, Pete’s meek voice struggled with a question.
“Where are we going?”
“Home, Pete. Just stay put, all right?”
“If I’m going home why can’t I get up?”
“You’ve already seen too much of me.”
“But I thought—”
“Stay put!”
When I looked in the rearview mirror, Pete’s head was buried in the seat. I waited until I felt we were safe, then called Jimmy. He answered on the second ring.
“Borelli.”
“Meet me at the park by St. Elizabeth’s. Fifteen minutes.”
“What for? You didn’t do anything crazy, did you?”
“On second thought
