Chapter 7Todd
Think, he thought.
“Think,” he said.
No one was listening to him. It was New York, and on the crowded streets people were too busy in their self-absorption to notice one man talking to himself, and besides, half the people were talking aloud, too, on their cellphones or earpieces or whatever fancy-ass tech they continually traded-up for. Give it to the Big Apple, home to anonymity.
And a perfect hunting ground for Todd Gleason.
Except it was too early for what he intended. The afternoon was still bright with sunshine and warmer temperatures than the cool he’d awakened to, and he much preferred to do his work under a cloud of night. Not that he intended anything nefarious, perhaps some old-fashioned skulking around to find out more about those dimwits Lenny and Bruce. Bec
