“Yeah,” she says, a humorless laugh. “He’s like mold. He just… stays.”
My mind starts working automatically. Name. Carl. Relationship to Salem. Proximity. Financial motive. There’s good money in trafficking. And there’s something about the way she saidlooked at methat makes my blood run cold. I make a mental note sohard it feels like carving it into my skull: Have Dean run Carl. Full background. Financials. Charges. Associates.
Salem’s gaze flicks to me, like she can sense the shift in my focus. “What?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I lie.
She narrows her eyes. “That’s a lie.”
I sigh. “It’s… a thought. A protective thought.”
Her mouth tightens. “About Carl.”
“Yeah,” I admit, because lying to her about this feels wrong. “We’re going to check him out.”
Salem goes still, shaking her head. “He didn’t?—”
“I’m not saying he did,” I cut in gently, forcing my voice to soften. “I’m saying we don’t ignore any angle. You don’t have to protect him. You don’t have to protect anyone who made you feel unsafe.”
A beat.
Salem’s eyes shine for half a second. Then she looks away. “Okay,” she whispers.
I let the topic breathe. Then I ask, “What do you do for fun?”
Salem barks a laugh, sharp. “Fun?”
“Yeah,” I say, like it’s normal. Like it’s allowed. “Before… all of this.”
She stares at me like I asked her what it feels like to walk on the moon. “I work,” she says. “I… always work. I’ve always been too busy trying to keep my head above water.”
“Salem,” I say quietly, “that’s not fun.”
She makes a face. “It’s survival.”
“I know,” I say. “But I’m asking anyway.”
She thinks, chewing on it like it’s a foreign concept. Then she says, surprising me, “The skatepark.”
My brows lift. “You skate?”
Salem’s mouth tilts, pride flickering. “Yeah. I’m not, like, pro. But I love it. It’s… freedom. It’s speed. And if I fall, it’s my fault, not someone else’s.”
That hits me right in the gut. “What’s your board?” I ask, leaning in slightly despite myself.
Her eyes soften. “Just a Landyachtz Cruiser board. Orange. Beat up. Stickers everywhere. I miss it.”
“I’ll buy you another one,” I say reflexively.
Salem’s head snaps toward me. “No.”
I blink. “What?”
She shakes her head hard. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t start trying to fix my life with money,” she says, voice tight. “I’m not… I’m not a charity case.”