2
A BARKING DOG
Earlier, there had been something about the kid that bothered me. Well, maybe it was more what the kid had said to me that bothered me. Just a kid really. Maybe fourteen, fifteen years old. A geeky little kid plagued with adolescent acne and a love for video games. Rail thin with big brown eyes and wire rim glasses. A dime a dozen. You find'em in every apartment building on this side of town. At least one.
But the one thing Frank and I knew from experience was a kid like this knew a hell of a lot more than what he usually revealed. Not because he was up to some nefarious shenanigans. But because they just usually kept quiet and stayed out of everyone's way. Because, frankly, he was a geeky teenager with a case of acne with a connoisseur’s intimate knowledge of the city's
