Hugh Blake wasn’t a big man, but the space he took up in a room was huge. He seemed to give off some kind of energy that made standing too close to him impossible: like a radioactive core you got too hot and had a tendency to get hurt in the process.
“Did she say where she was going?” he said in a calm voice. He did everything calmly, slowly. People who didn’t know him thought he might have been stupid. People who did know him knew that the slower he talked, the harder he was plotting. Usually against the people who thought he was stupid. He had a short beard and a carefully cultivated bald spot that he massaged some stuff he had bought off the internet into every day.
His daughter was fifteen. She didn’t know where mom had gone, and was just hoping that her unexpectedly-early father didn’t take it into his mind to go upstairs. She shook her head innocently, hoping she was standing far enough away that he didn’t smell the weed on her. “She just said she was heading out for a while to see some friends,” she said. “She didn’t say where they were going.”
“Is everything alright, kiddo?” said Blake the senior. He got up out of the easy chair and limped closer – a fall he had taken when her mother had been pregnant, which had made it so he had been in another wing of the hospital when she was born.
He had to smell it. Had to. Could she see recognition in those eyes? Was he plotting now, or was he genuinely worried?
“You haven’t got a boy up there, have you?” he said, chuckling.
“No,” said his daughter. Lying too! Double sin.
“Come on, give me a hug,” he said. She was tall, and he hardly needed to stoop. No way he didn’t know. And – had Henry left his boots in the porch? He’s a cop, stupid! If he doesn’t know, he suspects!
But something else was on his mind, and she suddenly realised why her mother was always home by seven. The warmth and love that she saw in his eyes suddenly frosted over.
“Can you take care of yourself, kiddo?” he said, extra slowly.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know yet. To find mom.”

Her mouth was always turned to the side a little bit, laughing at a private joke between her and no-one else. Her name was Rita. She had a bachelor’s in chemical science from a nearby college. Rita. She looked good in black. Rita.
The gambler looked up from the bar. “Heather, why don’t you get Rita another drink?”
Heather glanced sideways at Rita. “I’m not sure I should let you buy her another drink,” she said in a low voice to the gambler.
“Why not? I might be able to buy my way into a night’s sleep somewhere other than my car,” said the gambler. Heather looked at him as if he had just said that he planned to strangle someone.
“Isn’t that a bit of a nasty way to think about her?” she said.
“Maybe,” said the gambler. “I mean, I’d only stay if she was alright with it.”
“I would say forget it now,” Heather muttered. “She’s… attached.”
“So’s everybody,” said the gambler. Heather rolled her eyes and poured the drink. She’d stop him if he tried to leave with her. Having Rita in the bar always put her on edge anyway.

“You ever play hold ’em?” said the gambler. Rita raised an eyebrow at him.
“Wanna examine that sentence?” she said, and they both laughed. “I never had time for cards.” The gambler snapped his fingers as through he had just figured something out.
“I knew there had to be something wrong with you,” he said. Rita was stunned.
“You really are shameless, aren’t you? Line after line, that’s all you’ve got.” She wasn’t not smiling when she said it. Line after line was a type she knew. She could enjoy some time with line after line.
“One of ’em’s bound to work some time,” the gambler said with a shrug. She laughed again and let him buy her another drink.
“You’re a lone ranger, huh. Rambling the lonesome trail?”
“It’s not so lonesome. I’m meeting people all the time. Soon this place will be a memory too,” the gambler said. Rita left her hand on the bar and he took it in his. “A good one, I hope,” said Rita, leaning closer.
“Lovebirds! Break it up!” said Heather, splashing them from a glass of water. She pointed to the window, the flag backlit by red and blue. Rita’s face was a mask of shock and she leapt to her feet.
“Behind the bar, quick!” said Heather. It was clear this was a matter of if not routine then some prior experience at least. Rita ducked down behind the old wood as the door clattered open and Chief Blake, uniformed and glaring darkly, stalked into the room.
He looked all around without moving a muscle, his small, shiny eyes covering every inch and seeming to penetrate right through. He surely couldn’t see Rita, but in that moment Heather was sure he would break through the wood like the Terminator and drag her out by the back of the neck. She held her breath. “Where is she?” he said quietly to Heather.
“Who?”
“You know, this place was the subject of a report today. Marion says you people assaulted him.”
“He’s bullshitting.”
“Of course he’s bullshitting. But I can shut you down and put you away for it anyway,” said Blake, leaning on the bar. Heather froze, desperately stopping herself from looking down.
“Is there a problem, officer?” said the gambler, putting down his beer.
“Is there?” said Blake. “You know, Marion mentioned something about a stranger in town. Said you were one of the ringleaders of the gang that attacked him.”
“I never heard of any Marion,” said the gambler, standing up. “But he sounds like a hell of a liar.”
That Blake couldn’t help but concede. “You seen my wife around here?” he said. Heather was frozen to the spot, biting skin off her bottom lip. “I heard from the old man on the corner that she was headed this way.”
“I wouldn’t know her from Eve,” said the gambler, putting two and two together behind the world’s blankest poker face. “What’s she look like?”
Blake gave a quick sketch of a description, glancing over the occupants of the bar again. When he saw the poker game, his eyes narrowed a little, but he didn’t say anything.
The gambler shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Sorry,” he said.

When he was gone, Rita Blake put her head up from behind the bar and smiled nervously.
“Looks like you’ve got some explaining to do,” said the gambler. He had on a rueful smile. “You have dangerous habits, Mrs. Blake.”
“I know, and it’s stupid, but – god help me – I can’t stop. Coming out here, sneaking off with some man and making it while he’s off at work. He’s not home before eight most nights. I don’t know what happened today.
”He’s so cold, you know, and he hurts people for fun if they don’t play his games, pay into his little ‘retirement fund’. I couldn’t let myself be with a man like that!” she said, collapsing into the gambler’s arms when she was round outside the bar again.
“It’s alright,” said the gambler, holding her reassuringly. “It’s alright,” he crooned. “He didn’t know you were here.” Her hair was so soft, and her perfume smelt so sweet, and delicate tears were splashing on his shoulder. “Listen,” he said softly, turning her chin upward with his scarred hand. “We need to get you an alibi. Do you know anyone who can help?”
Rita looked up to the heavens and sniffed, struggling to regain her composure. “The nursing home will. My mother’s in there. I can sign the visitor book. Hugh hates it there. He won’t go unless he has to.”
“To tell you the truth I feel the same way about that kind of place,” the gambler said. “It sounds perfect. As long as the attendants will cover for you when he comes calling. you should ring him from your cell as well. Can he track it?”
She shook her head. He was brilliant at this, explaining every step of how they were going to protect her from her husband’s anger and attentions. She started to feel a little better, although the new questions he was raising about his own past that he was so expert at disappearing were ringing alarm bells in the back of her mind.
He drove her out to the home to arrange her alibi and call Blake to pick her up. That would sort it. He watched her walk into the squat grey building and put his car in gear.
On the way back to the bar, he passed a black-and-white police car. That couldn’t be right, no way he could be this far out if she had only just called. He tried to sit lower in his seat and put his head down, but he had a feeling the damage was done. Chief Blake knew his wife better than he had guessed.

Hugh drove calmly. While he was driving, he heard the buzz of his phone in the centre console behind the stick. He didn’t look. It would be from her. Some lies. His hands tightened on the wheel. More lies. Women’s lies surrounded him.