Scarlett watched as the tall gray-haired guy from the day before knocked on Daniel's door. She didn't say anything-didn't tell him Daniel was gone from the place. She'd been told to tell the truth, but she didn't think it was necessary to seek the man out to tell it to him.

"Daniel," the man called and rapped harder.

Toby, Daniel's neighbor two doors down the other way from Scarlett's apartment yelled a "shut the fuck up" as the gray-haired man continued to knock and yell Daniel's name. He finally stopped and rested his palm flat against the door. He looked suddenly tired and much older.

"He's gone," Scarlett said, surprising herself. She walked down the hall to him.

"Gone?" The man turned to face her-his eyes looked sad. Sad as Daniel's had the night before.

"Yeah." Scarlett shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know where."

"Damn it, Daniel," the man muttered. He looked at her, assessing, and Scarlett returned his brown-eyed stare with one of her own. "When did he leave?"

Scarlett twitched her fingers. She wished she had a cigarette. "Why you wanna know?"

The man rubbed a hand over his short-cropped hair. "He's my friend."

"Funny you never showed up before. No one ever did." Scarlett scoffed.

A fleeting expression of what, sadness? anger? regret? passed over the man's face before he looked at her as impassively as before.

She didn't know what made her say it but say it she did. She dug in her jeans pocket and pulled out the key Daniel had given her the night before. "Here." She held it out to him. "D said I could take what I wanted."

"D," the man repeated.

"Yeah. D. You know, Daniel Ballard." Scarlett shrugged again. Damn, she needed a cigarette and maybe even a shot or two of tequila. "Said I was to tell you the truth."

"About what?" He opened the door and walked into Daniel's apartment. Scarlett followed him.

"About where he was goin'."

"You said you didn't know where he went."

Scarlett ran her finger over the scarred table. "Yeah. I did."

The guy got out his wallet and held out a couple of twenties to her.

She laughed at him. "What are you? Some kinda cop?" She tilted her head and studied him more closely. "Nah. Not a cop."

"No. I told you, just a friend. It took me awhile to find him."

She wasn't sure if the guy was really talking to her or more to himself.

"He was taking a bus," Scarlett said then. "I walked with him to the bus stop down the street and he got on and that's it."

"You don't know where he was going after that?"

"However far eighty bucks would take him, I guess," Scarlett said. The apartment felt so empty without Daniel in it. "As far as it would get him from you." The last statement meant to hurt the gray-haired man didn't make her feel any better for saying it. His expression tightened at her words and then she knew.

"You're Jack," she blurted.

"What do you mean?"

"He was sick about six months back-fever, cough, you know. He used to call out your name."

The man turned away from her and she turned her attention to her bright red fingernail as she traced along one of the scars on the beat-up table.

"Did he say anything," the man asked, "anything that might have given you a clue about where he was going?"

Scarlett chewed on her lower lip. "You are Jack," she repeated and she watched the back of his head as he nodded once, twice. She took a breath. "I don't know. Just wanted to get away from here. He had eighty bucks, got on the bus that would take him downtown. Probably he got a bus to somewhere from there."

"Thank you," Jack told her. "I am his friend," he said again and of that Scarlett no longer doubted.

"Yeah," Scarlett said as he went to the door. "I know."