I TEXT SUZANNE, TELL her I’m going to be about fifteen minutes late when I know full well it might be about an hour or more before I can make it to her house. Maybe two. Maybe never. I’m a former detective. I know how these things go. I also know that if these cops suspect me of f*****g with Sissy’s life, I’m pretty well screwed until I can prove myself innocent. That might take a lawyer. A very expensive lawyer. But instead of getting ahead of myself, I decide to take a chill, and simply listen to what Miller’s got to say. I haven’t done anything wrong, after all.
So why should I be worried?
The interior of the Albany Police Department is like the inside of a mortuary and just as pleasant. I know the place like the back of my callused hands. Even the
