Chapter 9

“I can’t keep on seeing you. You make me feel like the criminals you go after.”

Fletch had denied it, saying, “I only point out where I think you—”

Amery had stalked out of Fletch’s house, and his life, before he could finish what he’d been saying. Six months later, after a long dry spell when it came to men in his life, he’d met Myles.

“And the rest is history,” he murmured, smiling.

He went into the kitchen to make coffee, poured a cup when it was ready, then got the report he’d printed out, settling in the living room to go over it word by word, looking for anything he might have missed which could give him a clue to whether an interrupted burglary or something else had been the reason for the Newells’ murders. He knew what he was seeing was very preliminary since there were no autopsy or forensic reports attached. It was just Fletch’s first impressions based on what he’d foundat the crime scene.