Floyd choked, the color draining from his face. With wide eyes, he glanced at each of them. Charlie’s eyes cut to the DEA agent. Was that the reaction Edmonds was expecting?

“Look, man, I don’t know anything about a murder. I thought y’all were here because of the noise. My neighbors are always complaining, but I was here all night. Had some friends over. I’ll give you their names. They’ll tell you.”

“Why don’t we start with why Sydney Donovan was carrying a painting with your address on it a day before she was murdered?”

“I already told you I don’t know any Sydney Donovan.”

Charlie pulled up a picture of Sydney—the same as the one sitting on the Donovans’ mantel—on his phone. He turned it so Floyd could see. “Tell me you don’t know her.”

Floyd looked at the phone before raising his hands up defensively. “I’ve never seen that chick in my life.” Floyd’s eyes flashed to Sheriff Huggins. “I swear, man.”

“I didn’t hear you say anything about the drugs,” Charlie said, his instincts returning. What wasn’t said usually spoke louder than what was.

“I-I don’t know anything about that either.”

“I’m not a betting man like you, F-Dawg, but if I were, I’d bet my entire salary that my associate in the suit over there is going to find drugs in your parents’ home.”

“Wha—no. Wait.” A sheen of sweat broke out on Floyd’s forehead, washing the rest of the color from his face. “You can’t do that. Don’t you need a search warrant or something like that?”

“You invited us into your home, Mr. Hollins,” Sheriff Huggins spoke up. “If we see anything out in the open, say, in an ashtray in your living room, that looks like it might be drug paraphernalia, we’d have probable cause to search the rest of your home.”

Charlie closed the space between him and Floyd. “My interest isn’t in the drugs. It’s in the murder of Sydney Donovan, who was holding a package with your address on it hours before she was hit by a car and then stabbed over and over—”

“Stop, please.” A greenish hue put color back into Floyd’s cheeks. “A package was delivered to my house a few days ago. I don’t even know if it’s a painting, man. I was just doing a favor.”

Adrenaline surged through Charlie. “For who?”

“I don’t know, man.”

“You don’t know?” Charlie leveled a cold stare at Floyd. “Maybe we should check the house for drugs. What do you say, Agent Edmonds?”

The man grunted and cracked his knuckles.

“No. Wait. I swear. I don’t know anything about the package or what’s in it. I was just following directions.”

“Last time I’m going to ask—for who?”