As Miller burst out of the building entrance, the sun was still blinding.
But the figure with the crutch was nowhere to be seen in the courtyard.
He paced anxiously around the complex twice.
No one.
He opened the Maybach's door and slid into the driver's seat.
He slammed his hands against the steering wheel.
On the passenger seat, there were still traces of oil spots from the burger Linda had eaten the day before.
Yellowish.
Greasy.
They were stark and hideous against the upholstery.
Miller stared at those grease stains.
A memory from their first year of marriage flashed through his mind.
Sarah had been sitting in that passenger seat, carefully eating a cracker. The car hit a bump, and a few crumbs fell onto the seat.
What had he done then?
He had pulled over and coldly order
