Jim put the gun back in the holster that hung on the bedpost and pulled on a pair of boxers. When he opened his door, Vin diPietro was standing on the other side, looking like a hot mess. Although he’d had a wash and a shave and changed into rich-guy casual clothes, his face was bruised and his expression was grim as hell.

“You see the news yet?” he said.

“No.” Jim backed up so the guy could come in. “How’d you find me?”

“Chuck told me where you lived. I would have called, but he didn’t have your number.” Vin went to the television and turned the thing on. As he flipped through the channels, Dog went over and gave him a sniffing.

Guy must have passed, because the animal sat on his loafer.

“Shit…I can’t find it…it was all over the local news,” Vin muttered.

Jim glanced at the digital clock by his bed. Seven seventeen. The alarm should have gone off at six, but he’d obviously forgotten to set the thing. “What’s on the news?”

At that moment, the Today show turned it over to a local update, and the Caldwell station’s almost beautiful announcer looked into the camera with gravity.

“The dead bodies of two young men that were found in the eighteen hundred block of Tenth Street early this morning have been identified as Brian Winslow and Robert Gnomes, both aged twenty-one.” Pictures of the college meatheads he and Vin had taken care of flashed on the screen to the right of the blonde’s head. “The two were the apparent victims of gunshot wounds, their bodies found by a fellow clubgoer about four o’clock this morning. According to a CPD spokeswoman, the pair were roommates at SUNY Caldwell and were last seen headed out to the Iron Mask, a local hot spot. No suspects have been named as yet.” The camera angle changed and she turned into the new lens. “In other news, another peanut-butter recall has been…”

As Vin glanced over his shoulder, his demeanor was focused and calm, which suggested he was not unfamiliar with having his ass in a crack with the police. “That guy with the mustache and glasses who looked down the hall when we were fighting could be a problem. We didn’t kill them, but chances are good it’s going to get complicated for us.”

True enough.

Turning away, Jim went over to the cupboards and took out the instant coffee. Only half an inch of grounds were left in the jar, not enough for one, much less two cups. Which was fine; it tasted like swill anyway.

He put the jar back and went to the fridge even though there was nothing in it.

“Hello? You there, Heron?”