I drop the folder down in front of Wyatt and he raises an eyebrow.

“You came prepared.”

I slide into the booth across from him. “I’m not messing around,” I say.

He sighs. “Can we at least order something to eat before we dive in?”

“Sure,” I say. “I’m not unreasonable.”

He laughs softly. “I doubt that’s true.”

I grin at him as he flags the waitress. He orders a Denver omelet and a coffee, and I just ask for toast with jam and a coffee. I’m not much of a breakfast person, and besides, I’m nervous.

I haven’t felt this nervous in a long time. Sitting across from Wyatt in the Great American shouldn’t be so nerve-wracking, but it really is. I’ve been meticulously taking notes over the last month, ever since Atticus turned up dead, trying to investigate absolutely anything I could find.

Problem is, I don’t know what’s relevant. I’m not trained in any of this. And whenever I find something I think is important, I call the local PD, and they just brush me off.

I nudge the folder toward him. “Take a look,” I say.

He laughs again, shaking his head. “You’re not messing around.”

“No. I’m really not.” I hesitate a second. “Someone killed my brother.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I know.” He opens up the folder and starts to leaf through it.

The waitress comes back with coffee. He barely acknowledges her, which I actually like. She’s young and pretty, younger than I am, and she keeps giving him that look. I know what that look means, and while I have no right to feel jealous, I still like that he seems totally oblivious to it.

He’s totally lost in the papers I gave him. There are some interesting things in there, notes about Atticus’s relationships, clippings from local newspapers, everything I could dredge up from online.

Wyatt holds up a paper. “Why’s this here?”

I lean forward. It’s a tweet Atticus sent out two weeks before his death. “Seemed important,” I say.

“It’s a 2Pac quote,” Wyatt says, slipping it back into the stack, shaking his head. “Look, Cora, there’s a lot of stuff here. Some of it might be important, but most of it…”

I bite my lip. “I know,” I say.

“I understand,” he says quickly. “You’re stressed, angry, rightfully so. It’s just, I’m only getting back into this. You need to hold my hand.”

I take a deep breath. I think about holding his hand, touching his skin, running my hands down the stubble on his cheeks…

“Okay,” I say. “Where should I start?”

“Give me a rundown of what happened. At least, whatever you know about.”

“Right.” I take a sip of coffee. He watches me while I talk, his eyes never wavering from my face.

“Atticus’s body was found in an alleyway behind an old gas station a few blocks from here. Nobody knows how long he was there, but I don’t think it was too long. I was the one that identified his body, and he didn’t seem too…” I trail off, not able to say it.

“Decomposed,” Wyatt says for me. “Got it.”

“He was shot,” I say quickly hurrying on. “Shot and stabbed a bunch of times, I’m not sure how many. He still had his wallet and all the money in it tucked into his jeans. They also found drugs on him, a small amount of heroin.” I finish speaking and look at him.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s good.”

“That’s good? That’s nothing. I mean, I know basically nothing.”

“There’s actually a lot in there.” Before he can explain, our food comes out. He picks at his eggs and I nibble at my toast.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, and I keep glancing up at him. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I can tell he’s concentrating on something. He’s sipping his coffee, eating his eggs, almost with purpose. I suddenly realize that I barely know this man anymore, that the kid he used to be is totally gone now.

And the girl he used to know is totally gone, too. I’m a new person as well. I can’t really deny it. Sometimes I wish I were still the same naïve girl I was when I was younger, but having a brother like Atticus forces you to grow up quickly.

Although of course it wasn’t always like that. Atticus protected me when I was young, took care of me when he could. I tried to do the same for him, but I couldn’t, not really at least. I gave him money sometimes, which was probably a mistake, and I even checked him into one of his many stints in rehab. I posted bail once, checked him out of the hospital once, and even cleaned up the puke from a night of bad detox.

But he never learned, and so I grew hard, harder than I wanted. Now here we are, my brother dead, and his old friend sitting across from me.

“We need to find some people,” Wyatt says finally. “Do you know his ex-girlfriend?”

I nod. “Of course. Kristi.”

“Right. We should find her first.”

“I’ve been trying,” I admit. “I think I know where she might be, but I’m not sure. She skipped town right after Atticus was found.”

He nods. “That could be good. Might indicate guilt.” He hesitates for a second. “And then there’s the issue of the gang.”

I bite my cheek. “The Niners.”

He sighs. “You didn’t tell me about them.”

“No,” I admit. “I didn’t know it was relevant.”

“It’s very, very relevant. Was Kristi involved with them?”

“I think so,” I say. “But I’m not really sure.”

“Okay, we can find that out.”

I stare at him for a little bit while he eats, not touching my food anymore. “So does this mean…”

He shakes his head and meets my gaze. “No, it doesn’t,” he says.

“Do you need…” I hesitate a second. “Do you need money?”

His eyes narrow like I just insulted him. “No,” he says curtly.

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “I understand.”

He sighs, softening a little bit. “No, you don’t. Listen, I’m not supposed to get involved here, okay? I’m supposed to get back to work on Monday back in Chicago. It’s Friday morning now, which means we have just a few days before I have to head back, okay?”

“Okay,” I say. “I guess that’s better than nothing.”

He winces. “Don’t make me feel bad, Cora. I have a life.”

“I know you do.”

I watch him for a second. I don’t want to say anything and risk this delicate moment. Truth is, I need his help, but we both know just a few days isn’t going to cut it. We need weeks, but I don’t know how that’s possible.

I don’t think I can really ask him to put his life on hold for me. I’ve been toying with that idea. Part of me has been justifying it by telling myself that he was Atticus’s friend, so he somehow owes Atticus, but that’s absurd. They haven’t been close in years, not since high school. Wyatt doesn’t even know the guy Atticus turned into after they graduated.

Wyatt ran off to the big city and his fancy college, leaving us all behind here. Things changed, he definitely changed. I know I did.

“You know how I met your brother?” he asks me suddenly. “It was right out there. He chased off some older kids that were picking on me.”

That makes me smile. “Sounds like Atticus. He was always picking up strays.”

He gives me a look. “I wasn’t a stray.”

“Sure, you weren’t. Honestly, I can’t imagine anyone picking on you.” I look down at his chest, his muscular arms, his broad shoulders.

He grins at me. “I wasn’t always so big, you know. I was actually pretty scrawny back then.”

“Good thing Atticus was there to save you.”

“Good thing,” he agrees, and sighs again. He leans back, drinking his coffee. “I’ll help you, okay? But you have to promise me something.”

“What?” I cock my head, staring into his handsome eyes.

“You have to let me do my thing. If I do start investigating, you can’t tag along.”

“Absolutely not,” I say, leaning back myself, mirroring his posture. “I’m coming with you.”

He shakes his head. “Too dangerous.”

“Wyatt. This is my investigation. You try and do it without me and I’ll just go behind your back.”

He sets his jaw, watching me carefully. “I had a feeling you’d say that,” he says finally. “You know how much of a pain in the ass you are?”

“You don’t know the start of it,” I say, cracking out into a grin.

Wyatt sighs, gets out his wallet, and tosses some cash down on the table. He knocks back his coffee and stands up.

“Where are you going?” I ask him, eyes wide, suddenly afraid that he’s walking out on me.

He motions for me to get up. “We only have a few days, right?”

I quickly finish my coffee and stand. “We’re starting now?”

“Might as well. You know where that ex-girlfriend might be?”

“I have a guess,” I say.

“Okay.” He gives me a look and suddenly breaks out into a grin. “You’re trouble, Cora Lewis.”

I can’t help but grin back. “I hope so.”

I follow him out to his car and together, we drive off toward the next town over.