“Yeah,” he says. “It should.”
I ignore the implication.
“What did he find?” I ask.
Kronin shakes his head slightly, almost imperceptibly.
“That’s not information you get to have,” he says.
“Convenient,” I reply.
“Necessary.”
“For who?” I ask.
“For everyone who doesn’t want this to spiral,” he says.
I step closer again, pushing into his space in a way that forces him to either move or hold his ground.
“They killed him,” I say.
Kronin doesn’t answer right away.
“I didn’t say that,” he replies finally.
“You didn’t deny it either.”
“That’s not my call.”
“Whose is it?” I press.
He smiles then, but there’s nothing behind it that resembles humor.
“That’s the part you’re not ready for,” he says.
The tension tightens, pulling the air thin between us.
“You were involved,” I say.
“No,” Kronin replies immediately. “I wasn’t.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to understand the difference between knowing something and doing something,” he says.
“That’s a convenient line,” I reply.
“It’s an accurate one.”
I hold his gaze, searching for the crack.
It’s there.
Not in the words.
In the restraint.
“You know who did it,” I say.
