Chapter 12
Hank sat alone in Volunteer Park. The park was officially closed, and he knew he could get in trouble if one of Seattle’s finest were to come by, stealthily rolling on the broad roadway behind him. There would be a spotlight, a single whoop from a siren, and questions, lots of questions. For a former homeless boy with an arrest under his belt for possession, those questions could lead to big, jeopardizing trouble.
The smart thing to do, thought Hank, would be to take one of the shadowy sidewalks leading out of the park and find somewhere else to sit and ruminate. This part of Capitol Hill had many shady areas where he could certainly find an empty curb where he could sit and smoke, be alone with his thoughts.
But he liked it here, in front of the Asian Art Museum. Before him
