When I get back to the room with Kristi, I fall asleep almost immediately. I can’t believe how tired I am, but it comes on me like a wave. Kristi’s still snoring away soundly, so I don’t worry about that.

In the morning, I wake up to the sound of someone in the bathroom. It takes me a second before I figure out that it’s Kristi, and she doesn’t sound good. I sigh and stretch, trying to recall the dream I was having: something about Wyatt, his hands on my body.

I climb out of bed, get dressed, and go to the door of the bathroom. I knock softly. “Are you okay?” I call out.

More retching. I realize she’s getting sick. It takes a second before she can respond. “Fucking fine,” she snaps.

I stand there and wait. I hear the toilet flush, some coughing, and finally the sink water runs. After another couple minutes, she emerges, looking like shit.

She grimaces at me. “Good morning,” she says. “Fucking asshole.”

She stumbles past me and over to her bed. She collapses and groans a little bit, but at least she seems sober.

“Are you okay?” I ask her again.

“I’m fine.” She rolls over and looks at me. “This is what happens when I don’t get it.”

It takes me a second to realize she mean heroin. She’s coming down and starting to detox, which is pretty bad.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll be functional for the next day. Tonight though…” She just shrugs.

I look at the floor awkwardly. “Do you, uh, need anything?”

“Yeah, my fucking drugs.” She glares at me. “But we both know that’s not happening. Your cop boyfriend is really fucking me, you know?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say stupidly.

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. Are we almost done with this?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Let me shower. I’ll go get him when I’m done.”

“Fine.” She rolls over and pulls the covers over her head.

I go into the bathroom. It smells faintly of antiseptic and vomit, which is pretty unpleasant. I brush my teeth and take a quick shower before putting back on my same wrinkled clothes from the day before.

When I get out of the bathroom, Wyatt’s sitting on my bed. He turns and grins at me. “Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” I say.

Kristi glares at me but doesn’t say anything.

“We’re getting breakfast.” Wyatt stands up. “You hungry?”

“Sure.”

“Good.” He turns to Kristi. “Come on, get up,” he says.

She groans but does as he says. He winks at me as he goes to the door and Kristi follows. I can’t help but notice that she doesn’t bother showering or anything, and she’s starting to smell a little bit ripe. I guess she doesn’t care.

I follow them out the door. We head down to the main floor of the casino and toward the back where we find this diner-style restaurant tucked in behind some slots. The casino itself is already busy, and I’m betting a lot of those people haven’t gone to sleep yet from the night before, but I don’t really care. I’m too busy watching Wyatt.

He seems energized today. Maybe I can’t blame him. Last night was… incredible. I don’t have another word for it. That just happened, intense and passionate, and it felt so perfect in the moment, even if it was probably pretty wrong. But it was inevitable, I realize suddenly. We’ve been trying to avoid this tension between us, but we can’t just ignore it entirely forever. Sooner or later, it’s going to bubble over and claim us, and last night was just the start.

There’s more to come, I just know it. I don’t know how, and I know I shouldn’t, but I know I can’t stop it. I can’t stop myself.

We get a booth toward the back and Wyatt orders everyone coffee. Kristi says she’s not hungry, but Wyatt insists. I get pancakes, Wyatt gets an omelet, and Kristi finally relents and orders cereal with milk.

“What?” she asks. “I like cereal.”

Wyatt just laughs. “Whatever you want.”

She grumbles and looks away, playing with her mug of coffee. We drift into silence as she stares anywhere but at Wyatt.

Finally, he decides to break the silence. “So, Kristi. Do you know why we found you again?”

“No,” she snaps. “Because you’re an asshole, I bet.”

“That’s probably part of it,” he says, laughing.

“I already told you guys everything.” She looks up at him suddenly. “Come on, man. I’ll do whatever you want. I just need my stuff back.”

He leans toward her, smiling slightly. “You’ll do anything.”

She nods eagerly. “Anything.”

“Okay then. Tell us what happened to Atticus.”

She groans. “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” I say softly.

She snaps her eyes over to me. “What do you know, bitch?”

“She’s right,” Wyatt says. “You are lying.”

She looks back to him. “Please, just give me my stuff.”

“Tell us what happened.”

“Fuck you.” She leans back, arms crossed, but I can see something in her face. I think it’s worry or…

No, it’s not worry. It’s fear.

She’s afraid of something.

The waitress comes with our food not long later. Kristi digs into her Lucky Charms with abandon, but I barely pick at my food. Wyatt keeps tossing me glances, but I’m lost in thought, trying to figure all this out.

Kristi’s afraid to talk about what happened to Atticus. She definitely knows something, but she’s not willing to say whatever it is. I think she’s afraid that whoever got Atticus will get her, too.

Which means she’s knows who it is, or at least she has an idea.

I wait a little bit before I start back in again. “Hey, Wyatt,” I say, breaking the silence. “You have arrest quotas to meet, right?”

He glances at me. “Sure.”

I make a big show of sighing and leaning back. “She’s not going to give you anything.”

“Probably.” He shrugs a little.

“So you might as well just arrest her. I mean, we already put in this much effort.”

Her jaw drops, but I keep my gaze passive.

He strokes his chin. “I see what you mean. Might as well get some use out of her, right?”

“Exactly. At least help out your bottom line. I mean, what’s it matter to her?”

“Hey, wait a minute—” she starts, but Wyatt interrupts her.

“I mean, I have her already. Could just take her down to the precinct right now, get a nice pat on the back from my sergeant. That’d be way easier than this.”

“I think it’s the best solution,” I say.

“Wait,” she says, sitting up straight. “Hold on, guys.”

“No, I think you’re done.”

“It was a drug deal.” The words tumble out of her mouth all at once, and she looks surprised at herself. I half expect her to put her hands over her mouth and sit back, but instead she just slouches forward, resigned.

“What was?” Wyatt asks, eyes narrowed.

“He got this shit, I know don’t know, some pills,” she says softly. “He was bragging about it for months to me. And then the night he said he was going to sell them…” She trails off.

I stare at her in horror. “He was selling pills?”

“Percocet or some shit,” she says. “You know, opioids.” She rolls her eyes. “All the fucking rich idiots want the pill shit, even though heroin is the same and cheaper.”

“Back up,” Wyatt says. “He was killed during a drug deal?”

“That’s right,” she says. “Shit, I mean, I told him not to go.”

“Who was buying?”

She shakes her head. “He didn’t tell me.”

“Really?” I ask her. “He bragged about it, but didn’t tell you the buyer?”

She glares at me. “He didn’t fucking trust me, okay?”

Wyatt glances in my direction. “Why not?”

She sighs. “Because I’m a fucking junkie and he was afraid I’d try to fuck things up.” She looks defiantly at him. “Is that enough?”

He watches her for a second. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but that’s a lot of new information, and I’m still trying to process it all.

I didn’t know Atticus sold drugs. I mean, I figured that’s what he did for the Niners, but I didn’t know for sure. I certainly didn’t know he was selling enough drugs to get killed. It explains a lot though, a drug deal gone wrong. He got robbed for his drugs, and maybe he put up a fight, which is how he got stabbed and shot so many times. Maybe he was trying to make his life better, and this was his way out, and it all went bad.

I can imagine my brother in total fear but still fighting for his life. And he was left there alone in that alleyway to die.

“That’s enough,” Wyatt says softly. “You did a good job, Kristi.”

“And now I can have my shit?”

Wyatt laughs. “Fuck no. You can go the fuck home and pray I don’t bust your ass.”

She looks shocked. “You fucking piece of shit,” she says. “What I just told you could get me killed, you know that? Those people are still out there.”

“You’re lucky I don’t arrest you, stupid junkie,” he says to her, all menace and anger. It surprises me how quickly he turns it on. “You need to shut your fucking mouth, go home, and stay there. If I have to hunt you down again, things won’t be easier.”

She stares at him, clearly surprised. She quickly gets herself together. “You don’t scare me.”

“I should.” He stares at her. “Now go the fuck home before I change my mind and drag you by the hair to jail.”

She watches him for a second before sliding out of the booth. She’s about to leave, but before she does, she turns to me. “I’m sorry about him, okay?” she says to me. “He was a nice person. Didn’t deserve what he got.”

“Thanks,” I say, surprised.

She nods and quickly walks away.

Wyatt and I sit next to each other in silence. I sip my coffee, mind running in circles. Wyatt doesn’t really move, he’s just staring at the wall, clearly thinking about something.

“I don’t believe her,” he says finally, turning to me.

I look at him, surprised. “What?”

“I don’t believe her,” he says again. “I mean, I believe what she said, but I think there’s more she’s not saying.”

I nod slowly. “The buyer.”

“She has to know who it is,” he says. “You saw how afraid she was when she finally blurted that out, right? And she left without putting up much of a fight, which isn’t really like a fucking junkie.” He sighs, shaking his head.

“We’re far from done,” I say softly.

“Yeah, we are.” He looks at me then suddenly wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him. I lean up against his chest and for a second, I let my façade slip.

I let the weakness, the anger, the sorrow that I’ve been hiding slowly leak out. Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t sob and I don’t make a noise. This man knew my brother way back when, and now we know why Atticus died. Maybe we don’t know who, but at least we know why.

I blink and the tears drop. I pull away from Wyatt and wipe my face with a napkin. “God, I need to go home,” I say.

He nods. “Okay. We’ll get going.”

I slide out of the booth and he doesn’t say anything about my crying. He puts some money on the table and we head out, back toward Mason and the mystery that’s driving us forward.