MAXWELL’S POV
The smell of burning toast filled the kitchen, effectively masking the lingering scent of stale cigarette smoke that had haunted my nose since last night. Standing by the toaster to watch the thin wisps of black smoke rise from the slots, I simply let the bread burn instead of popping it up because it felt entirely appropriate for a mood currently sitting somewhere between charred and incinerated.
Having not slept at all after throwing Andrea's dinner in the trash, the next four hours were spent in my study staring at the inconclusive GPS logs my investigator had sent over. The bouncing signal around Midtown put her anywhere within a five-block radius of 14th Street, which included libraries and coffee shops, but also bars, clubs, and hotels.
And she had come home smelling
