CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
While I waited for Troy or possibly some other squatter to return home, I positioned myself in a corner chair in the living room from which I could observe as much as possible of the first floor and be somewhat inconspicuous. The sun was low enough in the sky to reduce the room’s colors to a near-monotone gray. I kept my eyes and ears open, but my mind was busy thinking about my other cases.
I didn’t have my notes with me, so I tried to picture my flowchart for the Harcourt murders. It was getting too complicated to hold it all in my head. Just then, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket and checked the ID. Not a number I recognized, but the name seemed familiar. Gallagher Bern. Hmm. Back into my pocket went the phone. Then, I heard the clicking of a key in the front door. I got up quickly and crouched behind the chair, stun baton at the ready.
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