Despite being closer to solving the mystery of Tonya’s death than I had at any time since her death, I slept deeply on the lumpy couch, thanks in part to the beers Greg and I put away before bed. I was surprised that I didn’t feel hungover.

Greg snored, curled in the fetal position on the recliner.

“Greg,” I said. “Greg!”

I flung a pillow at him, hitting him squarely in the head. He jerked spastically and fell onto the floor. “What the hell, dude!”

I laughed hard for the first time in a long time...