Chapter 18
Hank stood outside, smoking. It was that weird hour of the day, not quite light, but darkness was rapidly losing its hold. There was a grayish quality to the light and an expectancy to the air. Hank sat down on one of the porch steps, almost expecting Ollie to rush outside and rag on him about the cigarette, but the house, like their street, was dead quiet at this wee hour of the morning.
He had walked. And walked. He felt like he had traversed all of Seattle from yesterday afternoon until now. He was sure there must be blisters on his feet, and once he could sleep and did sleep, he would waken with aching and stiff leg muscles. It just felt like if he kept moving, he could keep his thoughts and their turmoil, at bay.
It didn’t work.
Now he leaned back against one of the por
