CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It was just past 10:30 when I marched up the steps of the blue and gray building in West Ocean City, strode the walkway to Unit #204 and rapped on the door.
No answer. I rang the bell and waited. Nothing.
I pounded on the door. Hard.
I could sense her presence on the other side. Waiting.
I rang the bell again. Over and over. And over.
“Go away!” A muffled voice sounded from inside.
“Avon calling!” I said.
“I’ll call the cops.”
“Oh, good. We can both talk to them about Greener Way Consultants and Billy Ray. Won’t that be fun?”
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