CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
“s**t,” Sawyer cursed, slamming the car door outside the community center and kicking the tire. “Damn fools!” He yelled. A young couple, wearing swimming hats, glanced over at him, frowning across the parking lot.
“Sorry,” Ilse said, raising an apologetic hand. The couple hurried away towards the glass doors of the community center.
Sawyer still had his phone open, though, and he lifted it to his lips as Ilse watched, wincing. “You have to close it! Are you insane? This guy isn't even close to done.”
Ilse waited, watching as Sawyer listened to the muffled response. And then he simply spat on the concrete and snapped, “Next body is on you? Get it? On you!” He flung his phone towards a tree in the sidewalk, where it struck the bark, spun, then landed on the mulch, scr
