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“I've been told.”
“By everyone?”
“Mostly Beck.”
I point at him. “Tell me about Beck.”
“What about him?”
“You mentioned him.”
“Yes. He’s my friend.”
“He knew I was looking for you.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow you knew I was looking for you.”
“He told me.”
“But how did Beck know?”
Roman doesn't answer immediately.
Aha.
I lean closer. “How did Beck know, Roman?”
“He was in town.”
“And?”
“And you apparently weren't subtle.”
My mouth falls open again.
“You asked half of Hollow Creek if they'd seen a six-foot-four man who looked like he wanted to kill someone.”
“That's an exaggeration.”
His eyebrow rises.
“Fine. Maybe I said something similar.”
“Possible hitman?”
“That narrowed the search.”
“Great.”
“And it worked.”
“Did it?”
I pause.
Technically, no. Roman found me.
