“Mhmm,” Roddy agreed, glancing over at Zig, then back up to Jeopardy! “That’s not really news to you, is it? The details about Mint’s accounts . . . his divorce . . . Lemme guess—your friend in the Bureau, Waggs—she already told you what was going on.”
“Roddy—”
“Did she tell you about the drug boss Zion worked for? Adrian Vess. Apparently, he’s the one who hired the Reds to kill Zion. He didn’t care about Mint—he just didn’t like Zion freelancing, and even more, was worried about his empire crumbling if Zion ever got nabbed. Interestingly, a few days back, Vess was rushed to the emergency room. Said some berserker woman shot him in the foot and leg. Guy has nerve, though. He spends a decade shoveling drugs to kids, then files a police report—says that when he got back to his office, one of his paintings was missing.”
Zig couldn’t help but grin.
“Waggs told you that, too?” Roddy said.
“She was just—”
“I’d like to know what you’re really doing here, Mr. Zig.”
A Daily Double came up onscreen. “I told you, I came to say goodbye,” Zig said, running his hand along the length of one of the balloon strings.
“Nola,” Roddy said. “It always goes back to Nola for you, doesn’t it? You think I’m still looking for her.”
“Aren’t you?”
Roddy liked that about Zig—always working the case.
“Roddy, if the agents told you something—”
“A few days back, they found an address. You have to understand, the Bureau doesn’t care about Nola. Once they realized she didn’t take the money, she became inconsequential.”
“But not to you.”
“Or to you.”
“What’d you do with her address, Roddy?”
“I called in a favor—one of our dispatcher’s stepsisters is a Pennsylvania detective. She and her partner went for a look.”
“Please don’t tell me they tried to confront her.”
“Nola was living in an RV—an old Airstream trailer—in some kinda botanical garden. By the time they got there, Nola was gone, the place empty. They think she had a cat, though that was gone, too. From what they could tell, she cleared out in a hurry.”
Zig exhaled loudly. “Of course she did.”
“Mr. Zig, I’m the reason she ran.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t blame her. When we were little, I used t— I was a shit to her. And not just to her . . . to everyone.”
“Roddy . . .”
“Do you think people are capable of change?”
“Let’s not get overdramatic.”
“You were there. You saw me these past few days,” Roddy said, his voice picking up speed. “You saw me lose my temper, the way I unleashed on Seabass. Did you know I broke my hand, fractured my knuckle from hitting him so much in the face? I even came after you. In Elijah’s bar, I wanted to—” He stopped. “How can I be a good person if I still keep reverting to that old version of myself? It’s like Mint—you can do all these good things, but no matter how good it looks on the outside, there’s still something rotten lurking under the surface.”
“Roddy, you’re not like Mint.”
“We’re all like Mint.”
“We’re not,” Zig insisted. “Everyone keeps a side of themselves slightly hidden, tucked away from the world.”