Stryker, a tall man in his mid-thirties, nodded sympathetically. “I know this isn’t easy. It was one thing when you found out David was embezzling from the company, but threatening to kill you makes it a whole different story.”

Jonathan didn’t respond. All he could think of to ask was if Stryker had a brother and did they get along. Which was crazy. Other people’s families didn’t matter to him. He had a half brother who had just threatened to kill him. Now that half brother was in a hospital somewhere, or already dead. He had the brief thought that he should insist that the detective take him over to the hospital to stand vigil or something, but he was still too numb to feel any sense of urgency.

If David was still alive, what was he, Jonathan, supposed to say to him? “I forgive you?” Would David give a damn about that? Jonathan doubted it. Besides, he wasn’t sure he was willing to forgive. Not the death threat nor the stealing. Certainly not the lifetime of squandering every opportunity.

Stryker’s cell phone rang. The detective answered it. Jonathan waited, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a steady pain by his temples. At least the lights had come on about an hour before. The room the two of them occupied was small and windowless. Probably a business conference center at the hotel. There was a long table in the center of the room and a dozen chairs pulled up around it. The serviceable carpet was a medium shade of gray. Still new enough not to be stained or flat in patches.

Carpet, Jonathan thought to himself. I’m thinking about carpet. What the hell is wrong with me?

But he knew the answer to that. If he didn’t think about carpet, he might think about his brother again. About what David had done or wanted to do. About a threat of murder that was probably a whole lot more than a threat. About how things had gotten so screwed up and how he didn’t have a clue as to how to fix them.

“What time?” Stryker asked.