CHAPTER EIGHT
The sun shone in a China blue sky as Jamila and I drove to Salisbury the next morning. A salty breeze blew through the car. Seagulls wheeled and squawked in airborne choreography as we left the ocean, crossed the Route 50 Bridge and motored inland.
Mulrooney’s office was near the courthouse, but our first stop was a coffee shop down the street. Mulrooney was there, chatting up the cashier.
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