WARWICKE HELPED HIMSELF to a beer and handed Fabiana’s brother one. He dropped into a chair at the table and motioned for Alvaro to sit too. When the young man was seated, Warwicke asked him the question he’d been wanting to ask since looking into the garage and seeing the Camaro, with the huge dent on its front panel. “What are you trying to hide, Alvaro?”
The young man stiffened and stared at his beer bottle, his fingers fussing with the label around the bottle’s long neck. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, man.”
Warwicke nodded and took a swig of his beer. “That’s why you ran like a little girl from your sister earlier?”
Alvaro shook his head. The boy’s longish, dark hair curled at the back of his neck, making him look even younger than the twenty-three or four Warwicke guesse
