Chapter Seven
“When I asked the clerk, she said that a girl was waiting outside when she arrived, which isn’t all that uncommon. Once she opened the store, she focused on her preparations for the day—opening the register, checking voicemail and email, etc.—so she hadn’t noticed which box the girl went to.” Logan’s voice cracked as he relayed what had transpired just moments before our arrival.
Seeking out the key had cost us—in more ways than one.
“Could the clerk provide a description?” I asked, hoping to gain something positive even though my frustration mounted.
Logan shrugged. “She said there wasn’t anything remarkable—a mousy blonde, taller and thinner than she was, dressed in a P coat, whatever that is.”
“It’s pea coat—typically a double-breasted, thigh-length jacket, originally
