Chapter 9
The first thing Kaine noticed about his new surroundings was the painting he’d given Vicky, the panoramic Seattle cityscape, hanging from a wall that wasn’t really a wall. The wall was stone, uneven and shot through with fissures. The second thing he noticed was the wall itself, then the sparse furnishings, a desk complete with laptop, a leather recliner, and then the sofa he was slumped on.
The third thing he noticed was the boy, sleeping on the other end of the sofa, a small, scrawny kid, maybe thirteen or fourteen. He was slumped over the sofa’s overstuffed arm, a blanket draped over his pathetically malnourished stick-figure of a body. It was one of those touristy Native American things, colorful and rustic and crammed with dancing stick-figure Indians. The kind of thi
