They both nodded solemnly, neither one of them asking what the news was exactly. Heading back to her hospital room, they walked slowly, hand in hand, their heads bowed. Neither one of them said a word. It felt as though they were both about to receive the same grim prognosis, but it was an expected one. And so they were in no hurry to hear it.
I didn’t envy them. What Sky had told me had been difficult to hear. It had been surprisingly hard for me to grapple withthe idea that Dylan was capable of shooting his best friend—and I didn’t even like him. I tried imagining what this news would be like for someone whodidlike Dylan—who loved him, even.
These were Dylan’s parents. He was their only child. At some point in their lives, they’d pinned hopes on him. How could this not be a horrible shock?
Lydia and Bill had left me in the waiting room on this not-very-busy floor, and now, save for me, the room was empty. I took advantage of this newfound privacy and called my office.
The number rang several times. Nobody picked up, and my call went to after-hours voicemail.
I tried again, but this time my call was answered right away. “Sunny Randall Investigations,” said a male voice. But it wasn’t Blake’s voice. It was Spike’s.
“What the hell?” I said.
“Sunny?” Spike said. “I was just going to call you.”
“What’s going on? Why are you in my office, doing Blake’s job?”
“Okay, first of all, Blake’s fine,” Spike said.
“That’s good to know,” I said. “Is he taking a break?”
“In a way.”
“Pardon?”
“When we showed up, he was asleep at his desk,” Spike said. “Not just nodding off. Like…deeply asleep.”
“I…I find that hard to believe. Honestly. Blake’s the most awake person I know.”
Spike sighed. “Not that I have any skin in this game, but I’mlooking at him right now,” he said. “He’s sleeping like a newborn on the floor of your new breakroom. He’s even snoring.”
“Weird,” I said, but then the situation started to dawn on me.Gonzo.Blake followed a keto diet. No carbs. No drinking. Very little caffeine and sugar. One energy drink would probably send his brain over Niagara Falls in a barrel. And Blake had certainly consumed more than one. When I’d spoken to him, he’d sounded high as a kite.
I’d forced him to make me that promise.No more Gonzo. For the rest of the day.That was a couple hours ago.
Welcome to the crash.
“I suggested he try sleeping in one of your leather chairs, but he says he likes to stretch out,” Spike was saying. “You should buy an office couch. You know that? You’ve got room for one. And if this kid likes to take naps, at least he won’t mess up his back.”
“Spike, can you do me a favor?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Can you look in the breakroom fridge? Tell me how many cans of Gonzo are in there?”
“You bet. Hold on.”
Spike returned less than a minute later. “None,” he said.
“Shit. I’m pretty sure we had a case yesterday.”
“Wow,” he said. “Did you drink any of them?”
I cringed. “I’d just as soon drink bleach.”
“Well,” Spike said, “I suppose he’s sleeping it all off now.”
“So, anyway,” I said. “What are you doing at my office? And didn’t you say ‘we’ came in? Who is ‘we’?”
