He said something I didn’t catch, down in his throat, and turned to the door. I got between him and it. He stopped, his eyes fidgeting.

I said:

“So Whisper’s dead?”

He stepped back and put a hand behind him. I poked his jaw, leaning my hundred and ninety pounds on the poke.

He got his legs crossed and went down.

I pulled him up by the wrists, yanked his face close to mine, and growled:

“Come through. What’s the racket?”

“I ain’t done nothing to you.”

“Let me catch you. Who got Whisper?”

“I don’t know nothing a⁠—”