Chapter 9: Not Yet

Cory got out of the silver sedan before Wyatt had stopped the truck.

He came across the street with his phone held up in front of his face.

"Well," he said. "That's convenient."

I opened the passenger door and got out.

My knees were not quite steady, but my voice was.

"Put the phone down, Cory."

"I'm documenting," he said. "You're driving around in the dark in a truck with Monique's brother."

"I'm being driven home."

"To your friend's. How nice."

Wyatt shut his door and came around the front of the truck, slowly, with his hands open where Cory could see them.

He was a head taller than Cory.

He did not use it.

"Evening," he said. "I don't think we've met properly."

"I know who you are," Cory said. "You're the brother. The one who thinks he's a hero."

"I'm a cabinetmaker."

"You're sleeping with my wife."

"No," Wyatt said.

Cory swung the phone toward my face.

"Are you?" he said, and his voice dropped, soft and eager. "Come on, Cas. Tell me. I'm listening."

I looked at the red dot.

I looked at his bright, hungry eyes.

It was almost funny how well I knew what he wanted.

"Not yet," I said.

He blinked.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me. That's all you get for the folder."

The light went out of his face.

"You're sick," he whispered. "You really are. You need help."

"I need you to leave."

"Not until you admit it."

He stepped in close and shoved the phone almost against my chin.

Wyatt moved in between us, gently, one hand on Cory's chest.

"That's enough," he said. "Back up."

Cory took a swing at him.

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