* * * *
The next morning, Caspian was cursing himself. Why had he knocked on Flynn’s door? What had he expected would happen? Flynn opening the door and inviting him in for a cup of tea? They’d never spoken much…or at all. He’d stopped Blade and his crew from attacking Flynn as often as he could, but he wasn’t sure Flynn was aware of it. Most often he’d run away as soon as Caspian had yelled at Blade.
It might not have been Flynn he’d seen.
There had been a car in the driveway, though. Caspian often walked past the house with the dogs, and he’d never seen a car there. It didn’t mean it was Flynn, though.
He dropped the wrench on the floor and cursed. The nuts on the old Ford were as rusty as the rest of the car. He wiped his hands on a rag he’d put in his back pocket and went toward the desk in the corner. He didn’t have an office, only a dirty old desk.