Chapter 19

I accidentally whispered, “Miller.”

“Gloria told me you two call him Miller.”

I took a sip of my drink. “What else has she told you?”

“How he’s been harassing you. Slipping into your Tudor unannounced and threatening you.”

“It’s all true,” I told Bobby, caught in his green eyes, finding them pools of mystery and filled with endless nights of long and sexual investigations with a woman’s skin, since Gloria had already told me he was straight.

He flipped the glossy pic over and exposed a sheet of light teal-colored paper with facts about Miller: where he worked, age, height, home address, cell number, and places in Pittsburgh he frequented.

“Tell me what my objective will be, Mr. Trye…um…Victor.”