EIGHT
Cory opened the door of the cement block building and stopped at the receptionist desk. “Good evening, we have an appointment with a Nick Lowry. My name is Cory Miller.”
A woman of about fifty with shoulder-length auburn hair smiled. “Please sign the register, and I will need to see a form of identification from each of you. I will contact Detective Lowry and let him know you are here.”
They all signed their names and showed their driver’s license and were asked to have a seat in the waiting area. Marie nervously crossed her legs and took in the view of the building. She saw multiple heads slouched over computer screens lined next to each other in tiny cubicles. There was a low buzzing of conversations taking place and the smell of stale burnt coffee hung in the air.
Marie heard
