She's not much, but she's company. Used to be she ran a pretty good store out of one of the old buildings on Winter Street, selling clothes and trinkets and such. But in Milestone, the days of prosperous business for all but bartenders, undertakers and whores has ended, and Iris Gale knows that well, which is why she's now self-employed in the latter trade. I figure she doesn't charge Kyle for her services, on account of how he's got no money, or at least none that I know about outside of the odd jobs he does for those willing to open their doors to him. Maybe that's why he was so concerned about Carla. Maybe Iris has changed his opinion on whores and the like. Doesn't matter. He's gone, and now it's just the dead girl and me with her boyfriend sulking in the passenger seat of my truck. Or maybe not, because all of a sudden the back of my neck's cold and that's not right at all, not with the fire still fighting its blazing fight against the wind and rain. Someone's watching me. I'm sure of it, and I cast a quick glance at the whore before standing, both knees crackling loud enough to make me wince.
