Page 78 of Wild Escape

"I’m not his babysitter.”

"You know where he works?"

The guy laughed. "He doesn't.”

"I take it he’s your roommate.”

"Geez, how’d you figure that out?" he snarked, fumbling for his keys, checking out Daphne.

"If he doesn't have a job, how does he pay rent?" I asked.

"Well, he better figure that out pretty quick. It's coming due, and since his girlfriend dumped him, he's a little cash poor."

"What's your name?”

"I don't have to tell you shit." He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a card. "If you see Hayden, would you give me a call? I need to speak with him."

The guy laughed again. "The last thing anybody needs to do is talk to cops. Why are you interested in him? What did he do?"

"How well do you know your roommate?"

"We went to high school together.”

"Did he get in a lot of trouble in high school?”

"Why don't you ask him?" He closed the door on us.

JD and I shared a look.

"Well, he's cooperative," Jack muttered.

We plunged down the steps and headed down the walkway toward the parking lot.

“This is kinda fun,” Daphne said. “I want to be a cop.”

I gave her a doubtful look.

“What!? I’d make a good cop.”

We hadn’t gotten far when Hayden's roommate pulled open the door and called after us. "Hey, wait up! I think you need to see this.”

JD and I stopped in our tracks, exchanged another glance, then walked back toward the apartment.

A sensation of dread swirled in my stomach. Hayden's roommate looked like he'd seen a ghost.

We climbed the steps and followed the guy into the apartment. JD and I pushed down the foyer that was covered in cheap vinyl faux wood flooring. We followed him past the dirty kitchen, into the living room. It was home to a couch, a coffee table with a bong, a tray of weed, and plenty of empty beer bottles and cans. The apartment wasn't much to speak of—a plastic plant in the corner, a 50-inch flat screen on a stand, a stereo system, and a guitar in another corner.

The troubling part of the decor was the dead body on the floor between the coffee table and the television.

Hayden lay on the dingy brown carpet with lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. A pool of blood had soaked into the fibers. He'd been shot twice in the chest.

"Wait outside, don't touch anything," I said to the roommate.

He complied, and JD called dispatch.

I moved to the body and felt for a pulse as a matter of protocol, but Hayden was long gone. This happened within the last few hours, judging by the body temperature.