Page 87 of Devil and the Deep Blue Fish

“And she would know that how?” Cody asked, sounding doubtful.

Well, he was passing out a lot of secrets, wasn’t he? “She’s the second most powerful psychic I’ve ever met,” Jackson told him.

Cody sucked in a breath, and Jackson wondered if this was when they lost this guy, right when Jackson was starting to hope they could find a place for him.

“Who’s the first?” he asked.

Jackson let out a chuckle. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. His existence is so secret, the government thinks he’s dead.”

“Good,” Cody said, absolutely sincere. “The government can fuck up things like a good psychic.”

“They nearly did,” Jackson told him seriously. “Which is why we don’t tell anybody who he is or where he lives. Anyway, Crystal’s pretty awesome, and she loves to help, and someday, we’ll be able to pay her as much as she deserves.”

Cody laughed softly. “And I’m in the queue. I get it.”

“Hey,” Jackson said seriously, “I’m pretty sure you’re getting paid for this little job. I mean, notenough, but I know I saw Jade make you fill out a W2 yesterday.”

Cody chuckled. “You got me.” Then he sobered. “And as much as I’d love to ask more questions, now that we’re in this shitty neighborhood?”

“Hey!” Jackson protested, “I own that duplex!”

“Oh, seriously?” Cody managed to sound apologetic like an eighteen-year-old boy who’d just shoved his foot in his mouth. “Okay. Uhm, why?”

Jackson eyed the duplex critically. It had gotten a new coat of paint and some landscaping on the postage-stamp lawns the year before, and Mike kept the gutters clear, the lone fruit tree watered and growing, and the driveway was kept oil-stain free.

“Well,” he said, “after I got shot in the name of truth and justice, I went and got my degree and bought this place. I rentedout one side of it to the guy who’s now sleeping with Jade, who’s like my sister, and I love them both, so that’s fine.”

“And the other side?” Cody asked curiously.

Jackson wrinkled his nose. “So you know, I’m sort of a kept man. Ellery won’t let me help with the mortgage, he won’t let me make a car payment, and he keeps paying me a salary. It’s embarrassing.” He pulled into the driveway of the side that he used to live in. “He was literally moving all my shit into his house without asking, and when I complained, he told me to do something good with this side. So I made it sort of a stopping place for young guys getting out of jail and trying to get straight. Jade and Mike and me and Henry work as mentors. We talk to the POs. We look for kids who just need a frickin’ break. We get them jobs and try to find junker cars and stuff and help them move on to a place of their own. It only holds, like, five people, and we were waiting on some recommendations to fill all the beds, so I think some of the boys we rescued are going to end up here. One of the child advocates took the couch last night to make sure everything is kosher between the first two residents—who are barely eighteen, by the way—and the kids who got placed.”

Cody was staring at him. “Wow.”

“Shut up,” Jackson muttered.

“No, seriously. Fuckingwow.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jackson said, turning the minivan off and unhooking his seat belt.

“I’ve beenpicking my nosefor six months, and there was all this glorious public service here waiting for my help?” Cody demanded. “How could you?”

“You were getting your shit together!” Jackson protested.

“Myshit isboring,” Cody told him, absolutely sober as a judge. “Somebody else’s shit? My God. That’ssomuch easier to sort.”

Jackson had to laugh. “That, my friend, is the honest-to-God truth. Okay, fine. Come in, meet the guys. We’ll see what we can do. Henry’s usually pretty timed out as it is, and these guys will miss him, so it’s probably a perfectly wonderful idea.”

“Damn straight,” Cody said, and they both slid out of the car.

JADE HADleft for the office, and Aileen, the patient advocate, was supervising instead.

Jackson had a moment to glance around his old home, appreciating the changes. He’d had pictures of his family—Jade, Kaden, Kaden’s wife, Rhonda, and their children—on his walls. He even had, treasured and on the dresser of his bedroom, a photo of the four of them and Jade and Kaden’s mother, Toni, at Jackson’s graduation from the academy only a few weeks before her passing.

Thanks to Ellery, the photo had been copied, and the copy formatted on a plaque in the living room, with a dedication to Toni Cameron’s Home for Hope, along with pictures of the new residents as they’d graduated from work programs or working jobs they were proud of. There were new apartments and first days of junior college. Jackson hoped for college graduations someday in the future, but hey, the place had only been open for a year and a half.

And yet it was still doing good.

The furniture had been bought used, but it was sturdy—sturdy leather couches in the living room, afghans culled from thrift stores piled on top, and a solid wooden table with chairs and new pads on the seats in the dining room.

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