CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Sunday felt like a Monday for Avery.
She was up and energized at seven. Strangely enough, she slept like a baby the moment she’d arrived home, probably the best night’s sleep she’d had in months.
She threw on a black pantsuit and white button-down. As always, she wore black Skechers sneakers on her feet. The days of high-heel Manolo Blahniks were long gone. After breakfast and a cup of coffee, she stood in her foyer and stared at herself.
Go get him, she said.
A twinge of doubt invaded her thoughts. There had been so many close calls already, so many leads that had turned up dead. No, she thought. This is the one. It has to be.
On the way to her car, she surveyed the landscape of her life as a cop: traffic duty, petty crimes, domestic disputes, g**g warfare, and no
