11
Boden My Time
The back door’s buzzer seemed to echo in my head. I opened one bleary eye and looked at the clock on my bedside table.
Two-fifteen.
Who in the world would be ringing the buzzer at two-fifteen in the morning?
However, as I opened my eyes a little wider, I realized it was dim in my room because of the closed blinds, not because it was dark outside.
Two-fifteen in the afternoon, not in the morning.
Even though it wasn’t all that odd a time for someone to be stopping by, I wanted to ignore the buzzer. The sign on the front door of the shop clearly stated that it would be closed until Thursday morning, and I didn’t have any deliveries scheduled for that day. Chuck knew I planned to sleep the sleep of the dead, and I assumed he’d probably passed that information along to
