The police car showed up at Justin’s door the next afternoon. Thom saw it pull in from the living room window of his own house, and he was overcome by a wave of defeat. His knees buckled, and he sat hard on the window seat. Then he just stared. It was no surprise he’d been looking out the window when they’d arrived; he’d been expecting them all day. The man at the market had, no doubt, filled out a police report with Justin’s license plate number. That’s what Thom would have done if he’d been in the same position. While the man couldn’t trace the plate, not without knowing some shady tricks anyway, the cops could.
Two uniformed officers started walking towards Thom’s front door not ten minutes later.
Thom’s heart fell into his stomach even though he’d been waiting for them. The pain in h
