Four
The shrill ring of Ambrose's phone pulls me from any remaining remnants of sleep. I roll over in time to see him grabbing it from the nightstand. He sits up, being careful not to tug on the bed sheet too hard so he doesn't disturb me. He's sweet like that.
He puts his phone to his ear. "Ambrose speaking. Hmm-hmm. Okay, thanks."
Ah good. A short call. Those are always better when it's before nine.
"And?" I ask, propping myself up on my elbow. There's only one place that'll be calling this early, and it's not necessarily going to be good news from them.
"The serial number on the knee replacement confirmed the body belongs to Pete Stone," Ambrose says.
"Ah, at least that's one piece of the puzzle solved."
"And many still remain." He sighs and swings his legs around to place them o
