Façade

“Who are you?” Ryan asked with an edge.

“I’m Toby,” the olive-skinned man said, holding out his hand.

Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets. “And how did you say you knew Mitch?”

“He was…” Toby clasped his hands behind his back. “We were friends.”

“He never mentioned you.” Ryan, drawing in a deep breath, tried to tamp down the frustration rumbling in his contralto voice.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Toby said quickly. “That would have complicated things.”

Ryan bristled. “It would have complicated what?”...