“Dulac?” Hazard asked from the other room.

Turning the phone in his hand, Somers moved into the living room; Hazard was sprawled on the coach, his shirt rucked up a few inches, one hand scratching lightly at the dark hairs on his muscled abdomen. In his other hand, he held a paperback. Montaigne, Somers guessed.

“I know this is on me,” Somers said, “but after Darnell, things really got moving.” He told Hazard about the search, about dealing with the pettiness in the ranks, and about the discovery at Sexten.

“Holy shi—” Hazard sat up, glanced at their daughter, and shook his head. “I mean, why didn’t you tell me? Never mind. I know. But that’s incredible.”

“Well, it’s not so incredible having Park take the whole thing out of my hands and treat me like a criminal. I’ll probably find out if any of it’s significant in six months when the Courier writes an article about it. Or when Park arrests me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

Hazard nodded, but his expression was distant. “Nico was supposed to be helping Dulac move. He was supposed to pick up Marcus, pick up the truck, and meet Dulac at the apartment.” Then Hazard talked through his afternoon, his search of Nico’s apartment, and the conclusion that Nico was missing.

“But he could have just flaked, right?” Somers said. “You didn’t actually see anything in the apartment that made you think he’d skipped. Maybe he just didn’t want to help Dulac move; he kind of got maneuvered into it anyway.”

“It wasn’t anything definite,” Hazard said. “But he’s not in classes right now, and he’s not doing any jobs in New York this summer. He likes Marcus, for whatever reason, even if they aren’t dating. I think if Nico were going to skip out on helping Dulac move, he’d do it with Marcus. They’d go get brunch and be super bitchy or something.”

“But it doesn’t necessarily mean he’s missing.” Somers turned the phone in his hands again. “So why does this feel messed up?”

“Because it’s a very unlikely coincidence,” Hazard said. “Even if Nico had flaked, Dulac is responsible, although I’m stretching the definition. He wouldn’t have skipped out on a day of work; bare minimum, he would have called in sick.”

Nodding, Somers said, “I think I should swing by his apartment.”

“Let me run over and see if Noah and Rebeca can—”

“Maybe,” Somers said and then stopped. Hazard was already looking at him, the pain already in his face, and then snuffed out as quickly as it had come. “Maybe you should stay here,” Somers said.

Rolling one shoulder, Hazard dropped back onto the couch.

“To get Evie to bed,” Somers added. “It’s already late.”

“Sure.”

“I think it would be better this time.”

“I understand.”

“It’s not that I don’t—”

“Jesus, John. I said ok.”

“I’ll be really quick.”

Hazard nodded. He grabbed the paperback, and Somers saw the cover; Montaigne, the Essays. “Be careful,” the big man said.