Chapter Ten
Lost and found.
We stood together. Two men adrift under the neon gaze of the gas station signs, alone and quiet in the night, connected by concrete and history. Neither of us belonging, neither of us willing to back down.
“You’d better have a bloody good reason for getting me up in the middle of the night, other than showing off your fancy new car,” Detective Welsh scowled at me as he sipped from a steaming plastic cup of what I assumed was tea. It was always tea in this country. We stood at the far corner of the gas station forecourt, bathed in gaudy colored lights and the passing flow of headlamps from the nearby road.
“I do, but there’s a problem.”
Welsh squinted. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a zip-up sweater that made him look more like a hiker than a police d
