Free Not Even Past by Dave White Page A

window and tapped his fingers on the table.
    “Are you ready for this?”
    Donne leaned back trying to stretch out his muscles. “I’m not going to get you killed, Bill.”
    “Not what I meant.” Martin scratched his chin. “I have an extra gun in my trunk. Fuck that. You need one. Are you ready for what we’re going to find?”
    After taking a deep breath, Donne said, “I can’t believe she’s alive. How can I be ready for what we’re going to find?”
    “What if she’s alive?”
    “How?”
    The Springsteen guy slammed his laptop shut and left the coffee shop. It was just the two of them now. They’d had these conversations before, ten years ago. They’d talked about where they’d hide the “extra” drugs they’d found on a raid. Or how Donne was going to propose to Jeanne. And they’d spent one final time in a coffee shop, where the mood was just like tonight. Donne was about to throw the entire NARC division under the bus. And Martin tried to stop him.
    Martin tightened his jaw and flared his nostrils. He looked toward the ceiling fan. Then back at Donne.
    “I’m happy,” Martin said. “This afternoon I was doing my job, and I was happy.”
    “What happens if we do find her?” Donne asked. “If you’re so convinced she’s alive, and we’re going to save her. What happens then?”
    Martin stood up. “Let’s just go get her.”
    “I thought you said I was the one who wanted to run into the fire.”
    “Let me go get your gun.”
    Donne didn’t get up. “Let’s think about this.”
    Martin’s hand tremor was back. “They know we’re close. How much time do you think we have?”
    “What if she’s not there?”
    Martin pushed his chair in so hard, it clattered against the table.
    The barista looked up, waited to see if he was going to keep yelling, then went back to cleaning the coffeemaker.
    “Let’s go. Now.”
    Martin left the Starbucks. Donne sat for a second. He could just stay here. Call Kate, have her pick him up, and be done with it.
    No.
    He got up and followed Martin out the door, and into the fire.

K ATE GRABBED Donne’s laptop and opened it. The home screen was password protected, but she knew the login: KateJan14. The day they made things “official.”
    That January evening, they sat on the edge of his bed, her bra strap hanging off her shoulder, hair out of sorts, and the last remaining buzz of beer running through her veins. Her heart pumped hard, and she could feel a few beads of sweat drying at the nape of her neck. Jackson sat next to her shirtless, his hand on her thigh. He was breathing heavily.
    The scene reminded her of being a senior in high school. Creeping up to the edge of sex, but backing off at the last moment. Getting that rush, but feeling no release.
    It was their fifth night in a row hanging out together. Always started out the same, a couple of beers while watching TV or a movie, then ending up in the bedroom, edging close to the line.
    Kate exhaled and willed her heart rate to lower, and reminded herself she was an adult.
    “This is fun,” Jackson said.
    She smiled and nodded. Her heart beat faster instead.
    “I like you,” he said.
    She ran her hand through her hair, curling a strand over her ear. She bit her lip. You are not in high school, she commanded herself.
    “I like you too.”
    Oh, God. Shut up, Kate.
    Jackson laughed. “Your cheeks are turning red.”
    Her hand went from her ear to her left cheek, finger tips grazing her warm skin.
    “Shut up.”
    “I want to keep doing this,” he said. “I want to keep hanging out.”
    “Have I said I wanted to stop?”
    Jackson shook his head. “What do you think about making things official?”
    She said, “You mean like boyfriend and girlfriend?”
    Jackson leaned in and kissed her on the lips. A short peck, not like the kisses earlier. He lingered just long enough.
    “We could do a trial run, if you want.” Jackson backed up. “See how it goes.”
    It was her turn to lean in. She