Dad shook the officer’s hand.
* * * *
“Ding, ding, ding, got it right in one,” Justin spat at Izzy. “Unless you have more friends who break into people’s homes.”
“They’re not my fucking friends!” Izzy sounded angry, but he looked like a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot, and he stank of weed, and Wyatt felt sick just looking at him. He didn’t even look like Izzy. Not like the Izzy who moved with a confident swagger, or the Izzy who stared right into Wyatt’s soul when he looked at him. He looked confused, and dozy, and pathetic. “I didn’t doanything wrong!”
“You put my family in danger!” Justin looked like he was going to punch Izzy, and Wyatt’s stomach clenched. “You fucking led some thugs into our home, Izzy!”
“I didn’t—”
“No!” Justin yelled at him. “You stink of weed like you’ve smoked all fucking night. I’m done! I stuck my neck out for you, and you spat in my face! You’re fired. Get your stuff together. I want you out of here by morning.”