Chapter Twelve
He’d somehow managed to dissipate the crowd outside the bakery and make space for the officers to load the collected samples into the vehicle.
Now, he’d drowned his worries in two cups of coffee and it wasn’t even 11 a.m.!
Callan massaged the back of his neck, where pain throbbed steadily. Stretching out his spasming muscles, he headed for the interview room, determined to find something, anything to connect Lucas with his killer.
Unless they had a crazed serial killer on the loose – the possibility of which sounded as preposterous as him cooking a meal – Lucas had most likely known his murderer.
He eyed the leftover items in the second box.
Hefting dusty books, he rifled through their pages.
The second book could’ve been used as a doorstopper. A brick would fall to s
