68His father would have called him soft. But what challenge was there in doing a kid?
Stucky parked the florist van in the residential neighbor two blocks from where he’d left his car. Out of habit, he wiped down every surface inside the vehicle that he had touched. He had known for years that tracking his fingerprints to his real identity led only to an old life, a past existence that had no connection to any of his aliases. There were no bank accounts, no properties, no credit cards—nothing. Still, today’s failure was one he certainly didn’t want attached to Albert Stucky. And that’s exactly how he viewed it—a failure.
He had knocked on Katie Tanner’s door and walked back into the room.
He asked her if she recognized him.
“You’re the man who brought me all the beautiful flowers.”
“Y
