CHAPTER FIFTEEN
During the short drive to the house where the paperboy lived, Riley was feeling apprehensive. She always dreaded talking to traumatized witnesses, especially children.
They followed a narrow street into a neighborhood quite a few blocks away from the beach. The area was desolate and rundown—no sidewalks, patchy grass in the sandy soil, and rows of beat-up ranch houses badly in need of paint.
When Riley and her colleagues got out of their car, she was startled by a cloud of insects that buzzed around them.
Mosquitos, she realized.
As Riley started swatting at the swarm, the two local cops came trotting up.
Officer Kuehling was holding out a small plastic spray bottle. “You’ll need some repellent,” she said,
Wolfe added, “Mosquitos will eat you alive, late in the day l
