He opened it, saw a color plate of a body splayed open, and slid it back into place. He turned to Sandhill, sitting at the table in the apartment’s dining area. “So what does it mean, Sandhill? What James said?” Sandhill scribbled on a legal pad, attempting to make connections between names. Lines were scratched out, redrawn, scratched out again. Sandhill threw the pad on the table. “Maybe nothing. Maybe James was wrong. Still, he seemed pretty certain about the ID being the contact and payoff man.” Ryder frowned. “I’m not sure how much ‘pretty certain’ means from a scammer like James.” A knocking at the door, soft and hesitant. Sandhill rose and opened it. Nike stood outside. She looked past Sandhill to Ryder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here, Detective Ryder. I didn’t mean to bother you guys, I’ll stop back later.” She turned to leave but Sandhill grabbed her arm. “Whoa, girl. Since when do me and Ryder scare you off?” Ryder studied something in Nike Charlane’s face and made a show of checking his watch and seeming surprised at the time.
