Mika and Buck were up and moving early Monday morning to get back to the city in time for Mika to go to work. The motel served a Continental breakfast which helped, as they stocked up on sweet rolls to eat on the way.
“I think I’m on a sugar high,” Buck said with a grin when they reached the edge of the city.
Mika nodded, his thoughts obviously elsewhere—as they seemed to have been since they’d left the motel.
“Okay, want to tell me what’s bothering you?” Buck asked.
“Nothing, everything. I woke up this morning with the realization that I’d killed a man. All right, maybe not literally, but if we hadn’t been wrestling for the gun he might still be alive and…” He shuddered.
“Why the hell didn’t you say something before now?” Buck replied. “Before you keep on blaming yourself, it was not
