Chapter 22
In the kitchen again, Alan sits at the breakfast bar, another cup of tea cooling between his hands as he tries to listen in on what Jim and the officers are saying over by the back door. He doesn’t want to be too obvious—and if he asked, Jim would probably tell him—but he eavesdrops anyway.
“There’s nothing outside,” one of the officers is saying—Michaels, is it? Alan thinks so. “No wrappers, no cigarette butts, no chewing gum…”
There better not be, Alan thinks darkly. It’s bad enough someone broke his window. If they littered out in his yard, he’s going to be pissed.
“What about footprints?” Jim asks.
The other officer, Logan, shakes his head. “No marks on the grass. There’s a sidewalk that wraps around the house, but it’s swept clean. Probably kept that way.”
Alan sips a
