Marc dragged the desk back where it belonged and gathered up the trash. Then he noticed his second offering waiting on the floor. “Oh, before I forget, I brought you some clean sweats and underwear, and a few toiletries from your house.” He pushed the bag through the bars.
“Hey, thanks. That will help.” Owen dumped the contents on the cot and gazed at them. “No razor?”
Marc wished that omission hadn’t been noticed so fast. “Sorry. That’s considered a weapon.”
Owen’s stiff expression stirred Marc’s determination to fix this. “Don’t worry. Dan and I are going out there to look around and talk to Myrtle tomorrow.”
“Returning to the scene of the crime?” The flippant tone didn’t fully hide the pain in Owen’s voice.
Frustrated that he couldn’t offer anything more than platitudes, Marc scowled.
Immediately Owen responded. “Hey, now it’s my turn to apologize. I appreciate what you’re trying to do. Really, I do. I’m just overwhelmed with the shit storm I seem to be caught in.”