“Why did he survive, and the others didn’t?” Sam asked.

“Hard to say. Could be he took less than they did, or the pills he took had a less lethal amount of fentanyl. It’s not like the people lacing the pills are pharmacists who ensure that every pill is the same as the last one, you know?”

“Yeah, true. Okay, here we go.” Sam stepped into the room where nurses were tending to a man with brown hair. His blue eyes were wide with fear, or maybe it was the aftereffects of the drugs. What did she know about such things? She’d never even smoked pot because the thought of being altered by drugs of any kind freaked her out, especially after everything she’d seen on the job.

Sam showed him her badge. “I’m Lieutenant Holland with the MPD, Mr. Smith.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not at this time, but I’d like to know where you got the pills that you and your friends took.”

“There was this guy in the bar at the hotel. He sold them to us.”

“Which hotel was it?”

“The W.”

Sam glanced at Freddie. “Get there right away and get the security film for the bar.”

He took off to see to her order, while Sam hoped the film might finally provide a break they badly needed.

“Did you catch his name?”

“He said it was Craig something. I told Tommy we shouldn’t do it, but he said I didn’t know what I was missing. No one will tell me where they are.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you they’re deceased.”

“What?” His eyes instantly filled with tears. “No. They can’t be.”

“They are, Mr. Smith, and you’re very lucky you aren’t, too. Can you tell me their full names?”

“Ah, Tommy O’Donald and Jesse Myer. We grew up together in Shaw.” He looked up at her, eyes watery. “They’re really dead? Tommy and Jess…”

“They are. I’m sorry.”

He covered his face with his hands and moaned. “Oh my God.” His heartbroken sobs echoed through the room.

“You need to stay calm, Mr. Smith,” one of the nurses said, giving Sam a disapproving look.

“I know this is a terrible shock to you, but I need you to tell me everything you can remember about the person who sold you the pills.”

Bryan wiped tears from his face with the tissue a nurse handed him. “He came up to us at the hotel bar, and we got to talking.”

“What’d he look like?”

“Dark hair, well dressed.”

“White guy?”

“Yeah.”

“How old?”

“Mid-thirties maybe. He bought us a round of drinks and invited us to a party upstairs, said they had all the good stuff for free.”

“And you weren’t at all suspicious that he was willing to give you drugs for free?”

“Nah, he seemed like a cool dude.”

Sam pulled out her phone and texted Freddie to find out who had reserved the hotel room. Looking for a dark-haired white guy, midthirties, well dressed, approaching three guys at the bar. He invited them upstairs to party.