Chapter 65

Michael sat on the couch. He had removed the topcoat and wore black Levi’s, a black sweater, and a white T-shirt. His stocking feet were up on the coffee table, and he was sorting through his mail. He looked up when Hunter emerged. When Hunter saw the concern in his eyes, he felt guilty for snapping at him earlier. And maybe the guilt wasn’t just about that, but also about his earlier suspicions.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Hunter tried to summon up a smile as he sat down on the couch next to Michael. He wanted to talk, but it seemed the connection between brain and tongue wasn’t operating. He shook his head, his vision beginning to blur from tears. His throat felt constricted.

Michael touched his shoulder. “Hunter, what’s wrong?”

Hunter could feel himself grow colder. He began to tremble and knew his skin was going pale. He wondered if he was going into shock. Last night and all its indescribable horror welled up, filling Hunter’s mind with a disturbing jumble of images.