Taking a seat at the table, Dillon frowned at Jessy. She should have been safe at work, surrounded by other people. If Rudy Yorba hadn’t died in what had clearly been meant to be mistaken for an accident, he might not be so concerned. But Rudy Yorba was dead, smashed almost beyond recognition. Other people had seen the security tapes of the night Tanner Green had been murdered. Cops, casino personnel. What if someone—someone complicit in the murder—had noticed that Green had opened his mouth, had said something to Jessy before dying. Indigo. Would that mean something to the killer? Because it sure as hell didn’t mean anything to him. The place was a ghost town, nothing but a ghost town. “Tell me what happened—exactly what happened,” Dillon said to Jessy. “It was nothing. You’ve seen the show. When we attack Port Royal, the guns of the port fire back and we lose a sail. The sail fell again after the show was over and I happened to be walking by, that’s all.” In an effort to change the subject she looked more closely at Dillon and asked, “What have you been up to?
