but he might have just been bobbing his head. “Just a startup. I work—” One big hand lifted and then fell again. “Phone.”
Patting the man down, Somers located the phone and pulled it out. Darnell unlocked it and tapped the screen a few times. He passed it to Somers, and Somers passed it to Hazard. On the screen, Darnell’s personal contact info was displayed, including an email address and a work address both connected to a company called Astrolabe/Welkin in San Jose, California.
With a grunt, Hazard passed the phone back.
“You don’t know where Gray might be?” Somers said. “He told me he needed to do something with the move.”
Struggling to keep his eyes open, Darnell said, “His apartment. Both of us are moving. Nico was going to meet him with the other truck.” Darnell’s eyes flitted closed; when they came open again, they were glassy. “He really likes you. Talks about you all the time.”
“That’s right,” Somers said. “He talks about everything all the time. Can’t get him to stop.”
Distant sirens broke the stillness. The sparrow was back, fluttering down to peck at the gravel again. The hot, summer air shifted, and Hazard could smell pine sap.
“He’s been really stressed lately,” Darnell said. “Working too hard.”
“It’s a tough job,” Somers said, but he shot a glance at Hazard, and Hazard knew what he was thinking: things had been slow for months in Wahredua. The normal, day-to-day stuff, sure, but nothing that could genuinely be considered stressful.
“We had a big fight,” Darnell mumbled to himself. “I went in his bedroom without asking. How are we going to live together if I can’t go in the bedroom?”
Somers shot another look at Hazard, but this time, Hazard didn’t know what to think.
“He’s just being Gray,” Somers said. “Buy him another dozen roses, and he’ll drag you into the bedroom and won’t let you leave.”
Darnell’s lips twitched in a smiled. “He likes roast beef.”
“That’s good,” Somers said. “Tell me some other stuff he likes.”
Hazard hunkered down, squatting on his heels, and watched Somers do what he did best while the sirens drew closer.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JULY 3
WEDNESDAY
11:43 AM
WHILE THE PARAMEDICS AND EMTS loaded Darnell into the ambulance, Hazard and Somers stood to one side.
“It’s not your fault,” Somers said.
Hazard nodded.
“No,” Somers said. “I don’t want you beating yourself up about it. You would have handled any other suspect the same way, and you would have been right to do it.”
“But he wasn’t any other suspect, John. He’s our friend.”
“And we’ve got a reason to believe one of our friends is a serial killer. Until we know differently, we’ve got to handle this the way we’d handle any case.”
Hazard nodded again.
Somers tugged his chin, swinging his head. “Say it, please.”
“I know,” Hazard said through gritted teeth. Wrenching his head free, he added, “I don’t have to feel fucking good about it, though.”
“No, but you’re not allowed to beat yourself up about it either.”
Frannie Langkop, who had spiky gray hair and looked like an old piece of leather, came across the gravel toward them. “Most likely a heart attack,” she said.
“Great fucking diagnosis,” Hazard said.
“Asshole,” Frannie said.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Hazard said.
“What’s his deal?”
“He’s sulking,” Somers said.
“Couple of my boys used to sulk. I’d get out the paddle.”
“Hey,” Somers said, “there’s an idea.”
“Do you need something?” Hazard said. “Or did you just want to take a spare minute to advocate child abuse?”
Frannie grinned. “God, you’re really on one today. One of you guys going to ride with him?”
“I will,” Hazard said.
“No,” Somers said, a hand flat on Hazard’s chest. “You’ll just beat yourself up more. I’ll go.” He fished out his keys and handed them to Hazard. “Come on, Frannie, before I have to borrow your paddle.”
“I’ll drop the Mustang at the hospital,” Hazard said.
Somers gave a wave of acknowledgment without looking back.
As the ambulance pulled out of the lot, Hazard went first to the U-Haul. He knew he needed to pull down the gate and lock it, but instead, he stood there, studying the jumble that Darnell had already loaded. Then he left the truck and climbed the steps to Darnell’s doublewide.
Inside, the trailer had been almost completely emptied: the living room had a Beanie Baby unicorn on a shelf and a bundle of cords on the floor; those looked like they went with the TV. The kitchen had a bucket, a sponge, and a bottle of Pine Sol; Darnell had probably planned on scrubbing the place down over the next day or two. A