Chapter Seventeen
The shack that served as Nolan’s home was no less depressing the second time around. It still boggled me anyone could live the way he did. I hung back on the street, debating what to do. It wasn’t like I could beat on Nolan’s door and demand he talk to me…
… Or could I? Desperate times, desperate measures.
If Nolan really had nothing to hide, he’d answer in a heartbeat and tell me anything he could to convince me he was innocent — and if he avoided me, I’d still have my answer.
So I marched through the wild tangles of weeds that made up Nolan’s yard to the front door and smashed my fist against it four times. My heart pounding in my chest, I waited for any sort of response, but the inside of the house was as quiet as the street.
What if Nolan wasn’t home? Raina menti
