Page 20 of Killer Clone

Not for the first time, Hagen wished there was a law against being a dickhead so they could haul this kid in. “You mentioned Patrick was active online. Do you know who he was talking to? What platforms? If it was someone local?”

Tripp shook his head, a welcome change from a shrug. He waved a finger in the air. “Oh, there was one thing. He got amped recently. Some friend of his had moved to the city. They were going to meet up. I think it was the day he was found, you know?” He lowered his phone for the first time. “Maybe that was where he went. Huh.”

When Ander met Hagen’s gaze, he looked like he was also aching to pummel answers out of Tripp. “What friend?”

“You didn’t think to open with this information, Jake?” Hagen was ready to send Jake himself out the eighth-floor window.

There was that signature shrug again.

“Patrick didn’t mention a name?”

“Don’t think so. I dunno. Maybe. I just tuned the guy out most of the time, you know?”

“You know where the friend lived?”

“Uh-uh.”

“How about where he moved from?” Ander stepped closer, shoulder to shoulder with Hagen now.

Shrug.

“Jake, who was this friend?”

Another shrug.

Hagen had enough. He plucked the phone out of the kid’s hand. “I’ll ask you again, who was this friend?”

“I don’t know, man. He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. All I know is he was yapping about meeting some friend who’d just moved to town and how he was gonna show him around and all that crap. Dude, I figured he was lying. Like, who’d be friends with Patrick?” He held out his hand. “Now give it back.”

Hagen tossed the phone on the bed, while Ander dropped the Switch. It fell through Tripp’s hands, bounced off his belly, and clattered to the floor. Only the dirty sweater by the bed saved the screen from a nasty crunch.

“You shithead cop.”

“If I see you again, you’ll learn what a shithead cop really is.”

As they headed out of the dorm, shutting the door firmly, Hagen considered that their trip hadn’t been entirely in vain. Patrick Marrion had a friend, after all. Now they needed to find him.

They were walking down the hall when Hagen heard a “psst” from behind him. He turned and saw a young man of South Asian heritage in pajamas, standing in the doorway of his dorm room.

“Are you guys cops?”

Hagen took out his badge and showed it to him. “Shithead FBI cops according to the occupant of the room behind us. What’s up?”

The young man looked up and down the empty hallway. “Yeah, I saw you talking to Jake Tripp. Between you and me, I hate that guy. He’s a dick.”

Hagen was taking a liking to this clearly intelligent college student. This kid was going places. “Yes, we were asking about Patrick Marrion. Did you know him?”

The young man shook his head. “No. Well, I mean, yeah, we met. But I didn’t know him. Really sad, though. No one deserves that.”

It didn’t seem like the student was looking for grisly details of the murder. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Rohan Dhar.”

“Why do you hate Jake Tripp?”

The student smiled. “You mean, besides the obvious?”

Hagen smiled in return. “That’s right.”

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