It’s clearly a drug den. The apartment lobby reeks of pee and weed and the walls are covered in graffiti. She is too pretty and innocent-looking to belong in a shithole like this.
I push Wyatt from my mind as we make our way into the apartment.
The place is empty except for the kid dying on the dirty floor.
“Your boyfriend, sweetheart?” Ricky asks, using his professional voice now.
She nods, frantic. “Is he supposed to be breathing like that?”
I kneel down and glance at Ricky, holding my hand near his mouth. The kid’s breath is weak and there’s a horrible rattling sound coming from far back in his throat. We nod silently and shift him into the recovery position so that his airways aren’t blocked, and then I get the naloxone ready.
“What is that?” the girl whispers, shuddering as she
