“Hey,” he said. “Thank you so much for coming. I thought you’d be too busy with, well, Susan. I still can’t believe—” He stopped on the stairs, suddenly pale, and had to rest the box on the handrail. “Jesus, it’s not something else, is it? Where’s Gray? Is he ok?”

“He’s fine,” Somers said. “I thought he was here, helping you.”

Darnell adjusted the box, wiped his forehead, and said, “Oh, yeah.”

“Darnell, is he here?”

Or, Hazard thought, Dulac might be somewhere else: bleeding out in a back room of the trailer, face down in a shallow grave, or tied up in a storage unit, where Darnell could take his time with him. Dulac could be just about anywhere.

“Well, no,” Darnell said, “he was going to pack up his apartment with Nico.” Darnell continued down the stairs, and then he settled the box inside the U-Haul. With his back still to Hazard and Somers, he began to rearrange boxes and bags at the back of the truck. He jostled the grocery sack, and more books spilled out, their spines hitting the ground with a thump-thump-thump. Lots of twinks on the covers. Twinks with Christmas garlands. Twinks with puppies. Twinks with baked goods. “Grab those,” Darnell said. “Would you?”

Hazard watched the big man reach deeper into the truck. There was a lot of junk in that truck. A lot of clutter. And maybe all Darnell had to do was fold back the flap of a cardboard box or reach his hand inside a rolled-up rug. He could have hidden a gun just about anywhere inside that truck. Hazard pushed back the lightweight jacket that he wore, in spite of the heat, to conceal his shoulder holster. He rested his hand on the Blackhawk. He breathed in and then out; white flecks burned across his vision.

“Darnell,” Somers said, “please turn around very slowly. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Darnell stopped moving.

“I’m serious, Darnell,” Somers said. “Slowly. Hands where I can see them.”

“This is a joke, right?”

“No,” Hazard said. “This is not a fucking joke. Right now. Turn around right fucking now.”

Sliding his hands clear of the truck, Darnell displayed them, and then he turned to face Hazard and Somers.

“What the hell is going on?” His brows drew together. “Where’s Gray? What do you know that I don’t?”

Hazard shot a look at Somers. Somers nodded, so Hazard said, “Where were you last night?”

“Albany, New York.”

“Bullshit.”

Darnell’s broad face contracted; his voice was thick as he said, “Guys, what is this? I don’t understand what’s happening here. I was in Albany for work. I got into St. Louis, I don’t know, around 9 or 10. I drove home. Traffic on I-70 was terrible; there was an accident. Then I stopped for something to eat, so it was probably midnight, maybe one by the time I got here.”

“Darnell,” Somers said, “it’s really important that you’re totally honest with us right now. A lot depends on it. Lives depend on it.”