Twenty – OneErin stared into the box of grenades, just stared. She was a trained marksman, could handle any gun you gave her, could turn a Danish into a donut with one shot at forty paces. But she couldn't make heads or tails of a hand grenade and didn't want to. What she'd wanted was to see all of the evidence Peter Chandler had collected. The grenades, though not on any inventory list, and not to be spoken of, were part of the evidence. But what were they doing in the Garfield basement? She closed the box again, turned, and took in Chandler's office. She sighed, backed up and tried the thought again: her office.
She stared at the city map, the crime scene photos, the stacked files, considering for the umpteenth time where to begin. She needed a crack through which to sneak a peek at the
