Chapter 8Three Years Ago, Picket House
“I can’t. You know I can’t.”
Saalik was sitting on the fire escape and eating grapes when the argument on the lower floor escalated into a shouting match that spilled outside.
He was happy for the entertainment.
The television had been busted for three weeks, and Abel refused to let him fix it. Saalik had already read all the books in the apartment, so he had little else to do but spy on the neighbors to pass the time. He knew most of their names and was pretty sure he’d sussed out the villains of the drama playing out in the house, but these two were new.
“No. You won’t, Wyatt. There’s a goddamned difference.”
He remained perfectly still, not wanting the quarreling pair to discover they had an audience, and hoped Abel didn’t return and catch hi
