Chapter Three
Four months later:
“Not now, Charlie,” Mike muttered.
Taking the ball Charlie had dropped on the case documents he was reviewing, Mike tossed it across the living room. He ignored Charlie’s happy bark and the sound of the dog’s nails against his newly installed tile flooring. Leaning forward, he turned over the paper he had just re-read for the hundredth time and began reading the next page.
“Come on, talk to me. Where are you? What happened to you?” he said in frustration.
He turned another page. He knew it was stupid to talk to a couple of pictures, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t as if anyone could hear him except for Charlie. He leaned back on the couch and ran a tired hand through his hair. He’d been staring at the damn file for over two hours.
He wanted to blame it
