“I am,” I said. “I didn’t know any of this. I was just excited to see Hal’s show come together.”

“Me too,” said Layla. “Welcome to my screwed-up life.”

Dee’s song got to the bridge, and the music hit peak volume. Layla and I stood together, facing it all until the song ended.

“Nice hair color, by the way,” Layla said dryly.

“It looks better on you.”

To my surprise, her eyes glistened. “Come with me,” she said. “Pearson, Zania, and I are going to meet at Nelson’s place,” she said. “We need to hash out what we can do.”

“I don’t think so,” I yelled back. “I’d be barging in.”

Layla shook her head. “You could shed new light. I already know what Pearson is going to say. What Zania will say.”

I didn’t trust any of it. Ray missing. Layla’s sudden appearance at the same bar. This invitation.

“I’ve got to find my friend,” I said. “I’m riding home with her.”

“Okay,” she said, looking disappointed. “I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

The air in the bar had thickened with breath and shouts, and the farther I got from Dee, the better she sounded, all the flaws in her voice erased by the volume of the audience. Outside, streetlights soaked the avenue, and the sidewalks filled with glittering people. I looked up and down for the detective but didn’t see her.

Yegina wouldn’t go far. I texted her. Where r u?

Waiting for drinks at Sink. Come!

I looked around for Sink. I walked up and down the street, staring into windows, accidentally body-checking a young woman in a group heading in the other direction.

“Ouch,” she said, treading on my foot with a very high heel. Pain shot up my ankle. I yelped and staggered sideways, leaning into a cool wall for balance. She didn’t turn around.

Layla wasn’t here by accident. Her offer wasn’t spontaneous. It was a lure or, at the very least, a dare. For me. Come with me. Why? Because I knew something. Because I knew what Ray knew.

Whoever had beaten Ray’s brother had not quite killed him, but left him to die. Calvin’s killer was not a murderer by nature. He couldn’t bring himself over the brink of it. But he was a planner. He’d left the Boyle Heights hotel room in the clothes of his victim. He’d left no trace. And if pushed again, he would plan again, attack again, and leave no trace. This time with help.