Free Not Even Past by Dave White

it.”
    “That wire on the ground. I’ve seen those before. They’re camera wires. Like I’ve seen on those commercial sets.”
    Donne processed what he was saying. “Like in the video.”
    “From your email. Yeah.”
    The car went cold and still. Donne felt a rat nibbling on his shoulders. He rolled them to ease the pain, but to no avail.
    “Jesus,” he said. “She’s in there.” Donne undid his seatbelt. “Let’s go get her.”
    Martin shook his head as he started the car. “Tonight.”

“I NEED a gun,” Donne said.
    Martin peered over his steaming cup of coffee and blew on it. “You didn’t bring a gun?”
    “I don’t have one.”
    Donne stirred sugar into his cup. The Starbucks was nearly empty, a few people on line asking for Venti this or Grande that. Off in the corner, someone typed furiously on a laptop. Starbucks wasn’t too popular in Perth Amboy, especially not at night, Donne guessed. He was surprised they even found one.
    He opened and closed his right hand. It was swollen from his punches and ached at the knuckles with each movement.
    “We should talk to Leonard Baker,” he said.
    “A private investigator who doesn’t own a gun?” Martin’s voice remained at a whisper, but it was now as tense as a Wallenda family tightrope. “I seem to remember you shooting up a National Park about two years ago.”
    Donne took a sip. The roof of his mouth burned. “Leonard’s avatar was on Skype. We should talk to him. We’ll be more prepared.”
    “You’re not speaking English to me.” Martin drank coffee. “What did you do with your guns?”
    “Got rid of them.”
    Martin shook his head. “I knew I should have kept better tabs on you. I hope some drug dealer didn’t end up with them.”
    It was too easy to fall back into their old patter. Years of working together would do that, but this wasn’t what Donne wanted. Too much history, too much tension. Martin had destroyed Donne when he told Donne about his relationship about Jeanne. The cloud hung over him for too long. The life he believed he was living wasn’t reality, and now his past was twisting even more. The taste of coffee went bitter in his mouth.
    “Did you go to the wake?” Donne asked.
    “There wasn’t a wake,” Martin said.
    Donne put his cup down so hard that some coffee splashed through the hole in the lid. He put his palms flat on the table as if to steady himself.
    “I was there,” Donne said. He remembered the coffin, he remembered how clean Jeanne looked, but how plastic as well.
    Martin tilted his head. “Couldn’t have been. There wasn’t one.”
    The guy at the next table tapping on his computer pressed Play on a Springsteen song. One of the baristas looked at him and pointed toward her ears. He plugged in headphones. Now they were left with John Mayer on the store’s speakers.
    “That …” Donne trailed off. He remembered the Bakers sobering him up. Didn’t they? The time period was so foggy in his mind. He couldn’t have just imagined things. Not possible.
    Martin drank. Then said, “Jeanne was cremated. What was left of her. The car burned badly, and she was inside. I was in touch with Leonard the whole time. They didn’t want a wake. Didn’t want an autopsy. Just wanted to start the moving on process.” He had more coffee. Then shrugged. “It made sense at the time, I guess. I didn’t ask too many questions.”
    “No one did,” Donne said. The muscles in his lower back tightened. The chair was uncomfortable.
    Martin shook his head. “Two cops. Neither of us thought to ask questions.”
    “I need a gun,” Donne said.
    “When was the last time you went to a range?”
    Donne rubbed his face. “Sometime before I got rid of my guns.”
    “I don’t want to get shot.” Martin tilted his head back to get the rest of his coffee. “If I knew I was working with an amateur ...”
    “And I’m not walking in there unarmed.” Donne’s cup was still three-quarters full.
    Martin looked out the