The clubhouse felt quieter after Walter’s death because nobody could pretend his murder had been a coincidence. Every person who had helped us seemed to disappear before we had time to ask all the questions we needed answered.
I stood in front of the evidence board staring at Walter’s photo. Another face, another witness, another dead end.
Drake walked into the room carrying two coffees before handing one to me.
“You’ve been standing here for ten minutes.” He said.
“I know.” I said.
“You thinking or overthinking?” He asked.
“I don’t think there’s much difference anymore.” I said and a small smile appeared on his face.
“I was afraid you’d say that.” He said.
I took a sip of coffee before looking back at the board.
“They killed him hours after we left.” I said.
“I know.”
