Patrick called Anthony's mom, but she didn't know what was going on. It was three hours later before Anthony slammed into Patrick's apartment and flopped on the couch. He was still dressed in his rumpled funeral clothes, blood spots on the white shirt.
Hailey stood at the fridge, the door open, and Patrick froze at the counter, a knife in one hand and an onion in the other.
"f**k," Anthony muttered and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it, then jerked back to his feet and paced in a circle. "Don't anyone run to say hello."
"f**k, man." Patrick dropped the knife and moved toward him. "What the hell happened?"
"They questioned me," he waved his cigarette for emphasis. "They f*****g think I killed Christenson."
Hailey gasped and clutched the refrigerator.
Patrick's heart pounded over his
