Chapter 118

"Ash." His expression was carefully arranged into a soft sympathy. "I know you have warts."

"That was one plantar wart one time, you jerk, and if you dumb boys had cleaned the changing rooms at the dock like you were supposed to, I wouldn't have even gotten that."

"Go be ugly."

"Phrasing." I shrugged into my jacket, and knelt down to put on my boots.

"If you want to talk, the monster support group is open 24/7."

I looked up from tying my laces. "Is there biscotti?"

He winked.

***

Abraham Dershowitz lived in Dunbar, an upscale residential neighborhood that bordered the University of British Columbia and was characterized by large tracts of forested land and stately Craftsman and Edwardian homes, most of which cost upwards of two million dollars.

I spent the drive over wanting to puke, unable to meet my eyes in the rearview mirror. There had to be another way to get the vials that wouldn't require a heinous act.