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You’re not sick, Lydia’s voice said in hisThe lump in your throat The hollow space behind your sternu in your storief

“Huh,” Amos said out loud

“Need so, buddy?” the bartender asked with professional disinterest

“Another,” A at the half-full beer he still had

You don’t process grief well, another voice said Holden, this time That was the truth That’s why A, it was because he believed it No need to analyze it or figure out what he reallyin good faith Amos hadn’t met many people like that

The only really strong eer That was always there, waiting for hirief that as si a few stools away at the bar had the rough, rawboned look of a rock jock He’d been nursing the same beer for an hour Every tilance that was half annoyance, half envy Coveting his apparently botto to hi down embarrassed hiated to take the bait, and then Auy Soht even be a nice way to unwind

That guy didn’t kill Lydia, Holden’s voice said But ht And I need to find out

“Need to cash out here, a his hand teruy’s next two on my tab”

The rock jock frowned, looking for the insult, but when he couldn’t find it he said, “Thanks, brother”

“Anytime, hermano You be safe out there”

“Sa sa,” the jock

said, finishing off his beer and reaching for one of the two Aht “Do the same, sabe dui?”

Amos missed his bunk on the Roci

The long-haul transport was naan and ended at the white letters painted on its side Froe can with a drive cone on one end and a tiny ops deck on the other Froe can except that it was divided into twelve decks, fifty people to a deck

The only privacy to be had was thin curtains in the shower stalls, and people only ever seemed to use the head when uniformed crew members were around