CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Travis drives by the house in Clayton where the two guys are supposedly holed up. It’s a weatherboard house in a street mostly of small single-fronted houses and 1970’s blocks of units and — because the front lawns aren’t mowed — rubbish bins aren’t brought in. He figures they’re mostly rented. The house is on a street a few blocks from the Clayton Shopping Plaza on Centre Road. It’s cold; rain is falling gently on his hired Hyundai. Susie is cool; she knows so many people. He is sure she has the right guys. Back when he was using, she was the wild child, and everybody loved her. Still wild, but no drugs now.
The streets around here are wide. Clayton is hemmed in by, if not freeways, then busy main roads all around it. He figures the street is probably inhabited by st
