"I can't." I scoot forward on the chair and lean close to Carolyn. She freezes, trying to keep her eyes from meeting mine. "Or maybe you're not Hunter's friend and you gave him a hot shot. Is that what you did, Carolyn? Did someone give you a special dose of Akira just for Hunter?" Stop digging, boys, we struck oil. Carolyn's brain is still humming like a tuning fork, but at least she's focused on something now. It's there in her eyes. She's beating herself silly trying to make all the contradictions and lies in her life add up to something sane. She really believes she's Hunter's friend, but the meth fog she lives in lets her justify giving Hunter drugs she knew were bad because someone up the food chain promised her more drugs or more money or the chance to settle a long-standing debt. Whatever her reasons, she feels guilty as hell. The addict self-pity tears start pumping out of her red and bruised eyes. I want to smack her to see if it snaps her brain back into gear, but I just pat her lightly on the shoulder. I keep my voice low, like I'm speaking to a child."