“Here.” Miles gave one to Blake and sat down. “So. Where are we going?”
“We’re not going anywhere. The case is here, in the eastern district of the city. I meant to pick you up when I called you. But here you are with all these.” Blake gestured toward Miles’ bags with his hand. “What’s going on?”
Miles shrugged and opened his next drink. “I saw her tonight, with a man. She couldn’t have said it clearer that she didn’t want me.” Miles gripped the bottle so tightly Blake had to remove it from his hand.
“Maybe you should take a break—”
“Man, you can’t do that to me. I need this—it’s all I’ve got.”
“You’re upset, I can’t trust you to?“
“I’m okay and I’m functioning. I’ll go to a hotel after this.” He paused. “So? Are we going or not? Where’s the fire?”
Blake looked at him for a long moment. He sighed and checked his watch. “Got the call from the station two hours ago. It’s at 312 Marlowe Street.”
“Thirty minutes’ drive from here. Let’s go.”