17
Paix felt horrified. "How?"
C.K. shook his head mournfully. "Strangled, like the rest. The same man, from the looks of it. Why'd I let the boy return home?"
"It's not your fault, Cartas! This scoundrel must have found the boy after he left home." Why would Stephen leave his home, when an officer stood guard? "Come on, I'll buy you a drink."
The Straight Flush was a police bar, empty this time of day, but a nightly haunt for the Probationaries quartered at the barracks next door to the station. The owner ‒ who was also the bartender during the day ‒ smiled when he saw them. "What can I get you?"
"I'll have beer," Paix said, "and get him whatever he wants."
"Double vodka," C.K. said. "Been a bad day."
"That'll cheer you," the man said.
Paix and C.K. found a table, and the owner br
