“One was another police car, and the other was a car with D.C. license plates. “Could that be what’s-his-name?” Michael asked. “The reporter?” “Werzel,” I said. “More than likely. I bet he’s got a police scanner and overheard whatever’s going on.” When we reached the end of the road, we found that the police cars were all clustered in the parking lot of the Spare Attic. All the Pines residents were out in force, watching—some of them with coats thrown hastily over pajamas. “M...aybe you should park the truck by Rob’s unit,” I said. “We can always say we came to visit him.” “Not that we’ll fool anyone,” Michael said. “Like, say, the chief, if he asks us what the blazes we’re doing here.” But the chief wasn’t visible. I assumed that he and most of his officers were inside. The only one I could see was Sammy, who was outside arguing with Ainsley Werzel.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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