Clues about Angela had led him here.
Clues about Kerry-Anne abounded here.
Todd didn’t like coincidences, because as much as some thought they were fabrications of the mind, he knew otherwise. It was the dual hands of fate clapping. Two converging stories always had a meeting point, and if his gut (now drowning in melted cheese and fries) told him anything, that if all roads lead to Rome, go to Rome.
Or in this case, the Jersey Shore.
Spring Lake, specifically. Enough of this shrimp platter talk. He wanted caviar.
Sitting in his car, wiping the rain from his brow, he mapped out a plan.
Get settled first, find a hotel/motel, probably no problem with vacancies this time of year. Then, go about his business, find out more about Hardesty and that big mansion. Who was living there now? On
