I stare at the back of Steve’s head.
He turns and says, “I’ll call you.”
An incoming call on my cell phone interrupts us.
I hold up a finger as if to say Hold on
I dig my iPhone out of my back pocket and stare at the screen: It’s Chief Barton.
I look up at Steve. “I’ve got to get this.”
Steve nods, and turns to go, leaving me standing alone in the diner with Lou.
“Hello?” I say.
“We’ve got another body.”7
It feels like déjà vu when I return to the scene of the crime at Firewood Road ten minutes later. Looker-loos post like statutes on their front stoops, and I hear them whispering in the light of morning as a shimmering swirl of red and blue light from three police cruisers illuminate the street. An ambulance is parked in the driveway.
I cuss under my breath as I walk up the gravel driveway to the apartment building.