Page 266 of What We Bury

I explain we’ve been surveilling Sage around the clock, looked into everyone she’s had contact with. But we’ve seen nothing unusual. No repeat approaches. No secondary threats. Dean reported nothing unusual with Amy as well.

Whoever did this made their statement and vanished.

“Suspects?” Odin asks.

“One,” Milo says, leaning forward. “Tyler Kavanagh. The roommate’s boyfriend. I know we looked into him before Brockwent in the ground and he was considered clear. But the guy is aggressive, and he had access to the apartment through Amy’s key. He fits the neighbor’s description. And he has motive—Brock was his best friend.”

“Counterpoint,” Holden says, on cue. “Tyler’s a hothead, not a strategist. I ran him—two priors, both impulsive. A bar fight, and a disorderly conduct. The scene at Sage’s apartment was staged. Controlled. The noose was tied clean, matching our style perfectly. The note was block letters on plain paper, no fingerprints, attached with a paperclip. That’s not a man throwing a tantrum. That’s someone with patience.”

“Tyler doesn’t have patience,” Micah adds quietly. “He has volume.”

Milo’s jaw tightens. “So we just cross him off? He’s got motive, access, and opportunity, and we wave him through because he’s too dumb to be scary?”

“No one’s crossing him off,” I say. “We’re saying he doesn’t fit the profile of the scene. That matters. We’ve always operated on evidence, not gut feelings. That’s why we’re still free.”

“My gut feeling has a pretty solid track record.”

“Your gut feeling is telling you to kill someone because you’re scared and angry, and those are the two worst reasons to make a decision,” Holden says.

“I’m not scared. I just hate the guy.” Milo crosses his arms and pouts.

“Regardless,” I say. “We don’t move without proof. Period.”

Milo stares at me, and I see the moment the fight goes out of him.

“Fine,” he says. “But I want it on the record that when this turns out to be Tyler, I get to say I told you so while we’re tightening his noose.”

“Noted.” I turn back to Odin. “We need to go wider. Which means going back to the beginning—Brock.”

Odin’s expression doesn’t change. He’s listening carefully, absorbing everything, reflecting nothing.

“This all starts with him,” I continue. “His death is the trigger event. If this threat is connected—and I believe it is—then whoever left that noose has a reason tied to what happened on the beach. We need to know everyone in Brock’s life. Every connection. Every relationship.”

“You have Sage’s account of the party,” Odin says.

“We have the broad strokes,” Holden says. “We haven’t done a deep debrief. But I’ll walk her through it today, push her a little harder for connections she might have noticed. Show her photos of known associates.”

“What about his personal attachments?” Odin asks. “Beyond the party. The man had a life.”

“Only child. Parents travel a lot,” Holden says. “Apartment in the city as home base. But mostly they’re jet-setting around the world. No travel outside the area in the last month. They attempted to file a missing persons report, were pushing pretty hard for police to investigate. But it’s going nowhere after Milo and Fenrir’s cloned voicemail. That was enough to get the parents to back off. They now think Brock left on his own and is having some kind of rich kid temper tantrum on a beach somewhere.”

Odin nods. He taps the espresso cup with a single fingertip, eyes closing for a beat. “So we have family and friends who didn’t believe he left town on his own—while they may be appeased for now, we can’t rule them out. The fact they contacted authorities means they’re unlikely to stage vigilante theater in her living room.” Odin’s gaze finds mine across the room, steady as ever. “Still, one ghost can wake others. What about romantically? Was he involved with anyone?”

“Maybe,” Milo says, glancing toward Micah whose jaw is tight.

“The night we killed Brock,” Micah offers. “We were going through his phone trying to figure out our cover story. While Milo was working, a message came in from someone named Stephen.”

“What did this message say?” Odin’s brow lifts with interest.

“It said something like, ‘Still coming over tonight?’ with a couple of emojis added that generally mean intercourse of some kind,” Micah continues. “We blew it off. In the moment, it looked like nothing—a randy friend checking in. Milo sent a brush-off from Brock’s phone and we moved on to the cleanup.”

“Since then, Mr. Stephen’s been regularly blowing up Brock’s phone, making demands, threatening to escalate. But then, so has Tyler so . . . .” Milo shrugs.

“Explain the threats,” Odin says.

“Honestly, they came across as scorned lover, bunny boiler type stuff. Like, where the fuck are you, answer me, if you’re ghosting me I’ll come to your place, that kind of thing,” Milo says. “Some of them got uglier after day three. More possessive than worried.”

“Possessive how?” Odin asks.