Fragments of information swirled in my head. Sources were unreliable, leads contradicted each other: Emily exposed Philip Maglio to a lethal sexually transmitted disease; or he was gay. Rick was a dirty cop; or he was just tenacious. Drew Isaacs thought I was Aaron; or he played me for a fool. My twin brother was alive and visiting former drug-dealing colleagues while ignoring his own family; or he was dead. Prince was the most tight-lipped attorney in the world; or he had acted as my cousin’s own “Deep Throat” informer. Who was telling the truth? What information was significant? Maybe they’re all involved in a conspiracy to frame me, I thought miserably, recognizing I was verging on paranoia. My head felt as though it might burst. Had I more energy, I might have sprung off the bed and decimated Dotty’s apartment like a drunken rock star. I wished I had accepted Alex’s or Kyle’s offer to join me in Vancouver. A familiar face and a sympathetic ear, someone to talk through these contradictory facts, was what I needed to hang on to my weakening sanity.
