Page 146 of What We Burn

Give me all the data, baby!

Jake Petersen is beside Darren. Compact. Dark hair. Hawaiian shirt over a—wait, is that a turtleneck?

Nope. Just a crew neck. False alarm—my mom would never be interested in a guy that young.

I hope . . . Shit.

Anyway, Jake hasn’t looked up from his beer since Holden arrived. His body language says he’d rather be anywhere else. His phone is in his jacket pocket. KittenNet’s got it, but the signal is weaker through the fabric. I make a note to prioritize Chris and Darren’s data if Jake’s dump is incomplete.

“When was the last time any of you heard from Brock?” Holden asks. He pulls a notebook from his jacket.

Chris leans back. Arms crossed. The defensive posture of a man who thinks he’s smarter than the cop in front of him, which is hilarious because Chris Walton’s IQ is equal to the temperature on the coldest day of winter.

“Months ago. He ghosted everyone. We’ve been telling cops this since day one.”

“Right. And nothing seemed off before that? No change in behavior? New people in his life? Arguments with anyone?”

“Brock was Brock.” Chris shrugs. “He liked to party. He liked women. He liked being the center of attention. One day he was here, next day his car was gone and his drawers were cleared out.”

Holden writes something. I know he’s not actually writing anything useful. It’s the appearance of the pen that matters.

“What about Tyler Kavanagh?” Holden asks. “He and Brock were close?”

Chris and Darren exchange a look. I catch it because I’m watching their faces on my phone through the bar’s security camera, which I tapped into nine minutes ago because Sully’s password is, and I wish I was joking, Sully123.

“Tyler’s been through it,” Darren says. His voice is quieter than Chris’s. More measured. “His girlfriend dumped him. He’s been spiraling. We’re all worried about him.”

“Worried enough to do anything about it?”

“What do you mean?”

Holden holds Darren’s gaze. “Tyler’s been named as a person of interest in connection to another case we think might be linked to this. He’s also been exhibiting some concerning behavior. Threats, intimidation. The kind of thing that makes us look at things from a new angle. What started as a friend who ghosted could turn into something more complicated. Something that connects all of your names.”

Chris stiffens. “Tyler hasn’t done anything. None of us have. He’s just upset about Brock. We all are.”

Holden doesn’t reply immediately. He lets the silence stretch, weaponizing the ambient noise of the bar against them. It’s a beautiful tactic. People absolutely despise silence. They feel the overwhelming biological urge to fill it, usually with their own guilt.

I watch the security feed on my phone. Darren’s jaw clenches. Jake’s shoulders inch so high they’re practically earmuffs.

“I’m glad to hear you’re all upstanding citizens,” Holden finally says. He glances down at his book like he’s checking notes. “That means you shouldn’t have any issues speaking with me.” He shifts back in his seat. “Why don’t you tell me about the woman Brock Davis was seen leaving the party with?”

“What about her?” Chris’s jaw tightens. Darren’s eyes drop to the table. Jake, who hasn’t spoken once, takes a long pull of his beer and stares at the wall.

“You tell me,” Holden says.

“Sage Adams. Tyler’s mentioned her,” Chris admits. “He thinks she knows where Brock went. That’s not a crime.”

“Mentioning someone isn’t. Showing up at their apartment with friends and making threats is.”

“That’s not what— look, we spoke about going to see her. Just to talk. That’s all. Nobody threatened anyone.”

“Three men showing up at a woman’s apartment to ‘talk.’ You hear how that sounds?”

Chris’s face reddens. “We didn’t go through with it.”

“Why not?”

“Because Tyler got jumped and beat to shit by someone. Guy’s face is still fucked, and now he barely leaves his house.” Chris’s eyes are hard now. He’s pissed, but underneath the anger is fear. Not of Holden. But of whoever messed up Tyler’s pretty face.