Among Thieves by David Hosp

Liam replied. “We find them and make them talk.”
    “How do you know they’ll have something to say?”
    It was a question that had gnawed at Liam since they had set out from Belfast a week before. It was a question his superiors—those
     few who had approved of his mission—had asked him as well.
How do you know?
And to that, there was only one answer:
Someone has to know.
It was the only answer that would keep alive everything for which he had fought a lifetime; the only answer that would allow
     him to live up to a promise he had made silently to his father more than three decades earlier.
    “They’ll have something to say,” Liam replied.
    Broadark never turned. His eyes remained on the television as the stations flashed aimlessly by, one after another. “That’s
     what you said about Murphy,” he said simply.

Chapter Five
    Devon’s apartment was in a section of Southie that had as yet escaped the onslaught of gentrification eating away at the area
     year after year. It was the first floor of a clapboard double-decker in desperate need of a paint job. Finn felt like he was
     getting lead poisoning just looking at the chunks of paint chips collecting in the corners of the front landing. As he looked
     around the place, any thought that Devon would make good on his promise of payment slipped away.
    The woman who opened the door was probably in her early thirties, but extra mileage was evident in the lines in her face.
     She regarded Finn with an expression equal parts suspicion and annoyance.
    “What the fuck do you want?” she demanded.
    “I’m Finn,” he replied stupidly.
    “Congratulations,” she sneered. “That don’t answer the fuckin’ question.”
    He blinked back at her, and for the first time it occurred to him that Devon might not have called ahead to let her know that
     he’d asked Finn to take care of his daughter.
    “I’m Devon’s lawyer,” he began again. “He asked me to stop by.”
    The woman raised an angry hand to her brow and wiped a wisp of dyed-blonde hair from her eyes. “What’s he done now?” Her posture
     hadn’t softened and her tone carried no greater civility.
    “He’s in jail.”
    She put a hand on her jutting hip. “Motherfucker,” she said. “That figures.
Come on up and we can have a few laughs
, he said. Only he doesn’t mention that his daughter’s staying with him, or that he’s gonna take off and I was gonna spend
     a couple days taking care of the goddamned little brat.”
    A small girl with ragged-cut straight black hair topping a furrowed brow appeared in the narrow space between the woman’s
     arm and the doorjamb. She wore a sweatshirt two sizes too big, with the words “What are you lookin’ at?”
emblazoned across the chest.
    “Who is it?” the girl asked.
    The woman turned sharply. “I thought I told you to watch TV.”
    The girl ignored the woman and evaluated Finn with clear, intelligent eyes sharp enough to drill through bedrock.
    “You must be Devon’s daughter,” Finn said. He recognized that his voice was patronizing, as if he were talking to a three-year-old.
     He winced.
    The girl nodded. “The little brat,” she said.
    “Get back inside,” the woman ordered.
    The girl looked at the woman with contempt. Then she backed away and disappeared.
    “You shouldn’t eavesdrop, you little shit!” the woman called after her. She looked back at Finn. “Kids today… no fuckin’ manners.”
     She let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’m not even
with
Devon,” she said. “Not really. Not like that. And he knows I’ve got a sick ma down in Providence I gotta take care of. I
     don’t need this shit. You tell him he’d better find someone else to take care of Little Miss Sunshine, and damned fuckin’
     quick. Otherwise, she’s gonna be out on the fuckin’ street.”
    Finn nodded. “That’s why I’m here. He asked me to look after her for a couple of days.”
    She looked at him as though seeing him for the first