Chapter 7
Harvey stood on the small winding path leading to the front door and stared. His blood pounded in his ears, and his palms were sweaty. That wasn’t the California heat, either. It was a balmy seventy-three, which just felt wrong for the end of December, but he’d been in hotter during the North Africa campaign.
This was all about the bungalow nestled amidst the bushes, with its Colonial front porch and pale yellow paint. He’d seen the pictures Zach had brought to Ohio for the holidays, but they didn’t show how bright the flowers were next to the walk, or reveal the crystalline sky hanging behind the roof.
“I know it’s smaller than what you’re used to here,” Zach had said. “But it’s got three bedrooms, almost two thousand square feet, and a great little pool in the back. There
