KT broke off. The boy seemed taken aback by his own words, like he’d said too much and knew it.

Clark cut in fast. “Dylan threatened to quit the team?”

“It weren’t no threat.” KT shook his head. His nose had begun to run. He struck the desk with his fist and said, “Fuck. Fuck. It’s fucking stupid.”

Mayfield deftly tugged a small packet of Kleenex from his pocket and pushed it across the table. He itched his ear when KT’s face was buried in a tissue. Clark caught the signal.

“KT,” she said, suddenly speaking in her warmest voice. “What happened when Dylan tried to quit the Bison this summer?”

KT pressed the tissue to his eyes. He wiped his nose. He sniffled. “You can’t tell nobody I told you this.”

“Of course,” Clark said. “We ain’t here to spread gossip.”

KT took a deep breath. He looked between the two of them with raw red eyes and started to talk.

When Clark led Jamal Reynolds into the room fifteen minutes later the backup quarterback was shaking.

If Mayfield was at all unsettled by what he’d just heard from KT, he gave no sign of it. “We’re sorry to drag you out of class like this,” the investigator said, rising to shake Jamal’s hand. “I’m sure you’d much rather be learning about—what class did we drag you out of?”

Jamal stared at the packet of tissues on the table. “He ain’t dead, is he?”

Mayfield glanced at Clark. She nodded.

“He is, son. I’m very sorry.”

The news knocked something loose in Jamal. He didn’t look up, but he seemed to sit deeper in his seat. His breathing grew heavy. “An accident?”

Clark and Mayfield exchanged glances again.

“No, Mr. Reynolds.” Clark pushed the tissues toward him. “It looks like homicide.”

Jamal shook all over but he didn’t cry. After a long minute of silence he said, “He was fine on Friday.”

“Friday?” Mayfield said gently. “Or do you mean yesterday?”

“What?” Jamal looked between the two of them blankly. “Oh. Yeah. Yesterday.”

“Were you and Dylan alone at the coast?” Mayfield said.

A long pause. “KT was with us too. At his brother’s place.”

“What was that guy’s name again? KT’s brother?” Clark said.

Jamal shot a look at the blank notepad in front of her as if hoping to find a hint there.

“I didn’t really talk to the brother much,” Jamal said. When the cops didn’t break their silence, Jamal looked up and added, “I think it was...Tommy?”

He watched Clark’s face as he said it. The boy was clearly hoping she’d give him some little tell: warmer, colder. He was out of luck.

Instead, it was Jamal’s panicked eyes that betrayed him. He’d never met KT’s half brother in his life.

“What time did you last see Dylan, Jamal?” Mayfield said.

“Why you asking me this?”

“Answer the question please, Mr. Reynolds.”

Jamal took a tissue and pressed it to his eyes. “Jesus, help me.”