Both the dog and boy look up at the intensity of his tone. Reza pulls himself back up to full height, withdrawing his hand from Alfie’s head. Vince is reminded of a viper cornered.
“What about Wednesday night?” Vince pushes. “Bio lab until eight, right?”
Vince watches it like a play as any trace of expressiveness fades from Reza’s features, something detached and calamitous taking its place.
“Why do you have my schedule, Vince,” Reza asks, chillingly blank.
The detective’s fingers twitch where they grip his sides. “That is absolutely the least of your worries.”
Reza looks like he might disagree, but Vince—Vince stood over the body of a child mere hours ago.
He knows who put it there.
“Why didn’t you stop?” he asks. It’s a broken record repetition in his head, words he gasped out ear
