“So we’re going to The Badger Den in the morning?”
I sighed.“How about the afternoon?”
I could see the argument flash in her face, then disappear.She had to know me agreeing at all was a lot.Especially this soon.
“Fine by me,” she said.
That easy answer should’ve worried me more than if she’d argued.
We both went back to watching the street.
A jogger appeared at the far corner, and I almost laughed at the sight of him.Two-fifteen in the morning and some asshole was out there running like the devil was chasing him.
Britta noticed him too.
“See?”she said softly.“You weren’t kidding.”
“Nope.There’s always one.”
She smiled, then her face grew more serious.
“How are you going to find them?”
I looked at her.“The guy who shot you?”I asked.
She nodded.“There are so many people out there.How can you find just one when you know nothing about them?”
“We’ll find them,” I said without hesitation.
Because it wasn’t a maybe.
It wasn’t a line.
It was fact.
One way or another, the Saint’s Outlaws were going to find whoever had done this.
Britta’s gaze stayed on me.“But how?You don’t even have a name or anything.”
We did, actually.We had a few more than that.
Nick and Frank before they either died or vanished off the board.
And the names that kept surfacing every time we tugged on the right thread.“We’ve got a few leads,” I said.“Names.”
She turned more fully toward me.“You have names?”
I nodded once.
“What are they?”
I hesitated.Not because I thought she couldn’t handle hearing them.Britta was already too far in this, whether I liked it or not.I just didn’t know how much farther I wanted her to step.
She saw the hesitation and gave me that look of hers—the one that said she already knew I was debating and thought it was stupid.“I’ve lived here my whole life, Swift,” she said.“I could maybe help.”
Fair.
“Conover,” I said.“Kettler.Calhoun.”
