Logan's Young Guns. Nathan Walpow

said. “And if they kill you, I’ll hunt them down.”

      “I never know when you’re serious.” He opened the door. “Please, keep it short. And don’t get her excited. And don’t expect much. She’s sedated.”

      The first bed wasn’t Tiff. It was an old woman with one of those oxygen tubes in her nose. They got past her, and there was Tiff. A light on the wall was on, so he could see how bad it was.

      One whole side of her face was black and blue. She had a big bandage over her eye and the part of her face around it. A tube came down from a bag and went under the sheet. She was hooked up to a bunch of screens that showed how she was. Nothing was red or flashing or beeping. That was probably good.

      He ran around the bed and took her hand, the good one. The other was wrapped in bandages. “Tiff?”

      “Remember,” Logan said. “Take it easy.”

      Johnny looked up at him. “Okay.” He held onto Tiff’s hand, loose like. “Tiff?”

      Her eyes opened. Or at least the one he could see. It was all red.

      She tried to talk, but only a sort of squeak came out.

      “Give her some water,” Logan said.

      Johnny let go her hand, found a plastic pitcher, poured some into a cup with a straw in it. He carefully put the straw to her lips. She got her head up enough that she could drink a little. Then she put her head back down and said, “Johnny?” like she was whispering.

      “It’s me, Tiff. You’re gonna be all right.”

      She spotted Logan. “Who?”

      “He’s on our side.”

      Her eyes moved slowly back to Johnny. “Why?”

      Johnny didn’t know why Logan was on their side. But it didn’t matter, because it hit him that that wasn’t what she was asking. She was asking how come she’d gotten banged up like that. “I don’t know, Tiff. Who did it?”

      Her eye flicked around. Then she said, “Tony.”

      Johnny was sure he hadn’t heard her right. It didn’t make any sense. He bent closer. “Say it again.”

      “Was … Tony.”

      Okay, that time he was sure. Son of a bitch.

      Steve came back in the room. “You guys have to leave. They’re coming to check her out, and they can’t find you here.”

      Johnny stood up straight. He said to Logan, “It’s okay. We got what we need.”

      “Who’s Tony?”

      “Outside.” He bent down and kissed Tiff’s forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He reached up and turned out the lamp, and they got out of there.

      Steve went in the room, and Johnny and Logan went back to the elevator. Logan waited until it came, and they were in it alone. Then he asked, “Who’s Tony?”

      Johnny felt like the air was too thin. He grabbed his hat and crunched it in his hands. Then he stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans.

      “Tony’s my dad,” he said.

      3

      They went back down to Logan’s car and got in. “I thought you said your father got run over,” Logan said.

      “It’s what we tell people, my mom—well, before she died—and me. We told it so much that I got to believing it myself. When I told you before, it just came out, and it didn’t seem to make a difference.”

      “What really happened to him?”

      “What do you think? He ran off.”

      “Why would Tiffany know what he looks like?”

      “I got pictures. My mom, like I was sayin’, she liked to make believe he was dead. And I went along, but before she burned all the pictures, I grabbed some.”

      “Tiffany saw them.”

      “When we were growing up. It was like a big secret.”

      “So she’s never seen him in person.”

      “Nah.”

      “And those pictures are what? Thirty years old?”

      “Something like that.”

      Logan didn’t say anything.

      “I get it,” Johnny said. “You’re thinking, how would she know him?”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “I don’t know,” he said. “But, Mister Logan—“

      “Just Logan.”

      “Logan. Will you help me find out?”

      Almost always, he worked alone. But there was something about this kid. He was kind of pathetic, but the way he loved his sister…

      “I will, Johnny.”

      He started the car. Then he turned it off. He needed a destination.

      “When was the last time you heard from your father?”

      “Long time ago. I was a kid.”

      “How?”

      “He called one night, and my mom wasn’t there, so she couldn’t hang up on him like she always did.”

      “What did he say?”

      “I don’t remember much. I just remember that he said someday he’d make it all up to me. You know, stuff like that. Stuff that doesn’t mean anything because you know it’ll never happen. But, I mean, this was like fifteen years ago. Sometimes I can’t even remember what happened last week.”

      “Give it a few years. It gets worse. Have you heard anything about him since then?”

      “Yeah. Every couple of years my uncle says something.”

      “Your uncle.”

      “My uncle Frank. He’s my dad’s brother. I see him once in a while. Talk to him a couple times a year.”

      “When was the last?”

      “Two, maybe three months ago. He wanted to know if I wanted to go fishing with him.”

      “Did you?”

      “Hell, no. Fishing’s dumb. You want fish, you go to Long John Silver’s or something.”

      “When was the last time he mentioned your father?”

      “Couple years ago, I think. Yeah, it was right after I got out of Folsom. He said … what did he say … something about where he was working. Something about the docks, maybe?”

      “You’re asking me?”

      “I’m sorry. I really am. But I don’t remember.”

      “Where does your uncle live?”

      “Down in Orange County.”

      “Where?”

      “Fullerton, I think, or Costa Mesa? One of those places that is kind of near Disneyland. But not Anaheim. I would remember Anaheim. On account of Disneyland.”

      “You think you could find him?”

      “Why?”

      “Because we’re going to go see him.”

      “Why are we gonna do that?”

      Logan said nothing.

      Johnny got it. “You think he knows where my father is?”

      “Good a move as any.”

      Johnny