Chapter 16
The parking lot of The White Russian was packed. Typical for a Thursday night. Frank had never really understood why Thursday was the big party night in Atlanta, but what the hell. A lot of things about this city didn’t make much sense.
They drove slowly across the cracked asphalt, to the very back of the lot. Behind them, they could hear the muffled thump-thump-thump of dance music from the club. Only a few sodium arc lights fought against the darkness of the lot. The club itself was blacked out, except for lights over the main entrance and a small service door at the rear. No neon, no flash. On the outside, at least.
Across a narrow strip full of sickly grass and weeds sat a squat cinderblock building, looking abandoned.
“There,” Yvonne said. “Let’s start there.”
“Why the
