Chapter 21
From his office window, Lumbergh watched the cloak of dimness from the early winter sunset steadily drape over the row of old family-owned shops across the street. They had long been part of his view, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had taken a moment to just look at them.
Each sun-faded building had a quaint, handwritten “sale” sign inside its dusty window. Most entranceways hosted one or two decades-old gumball machines that invited young customers to nag their parents for a quarter or dime.
He watched on as Lupe Cordova, the kind, elderly owner of Winston’s only Mexican restaurant, closed up shop. She was wearing a thick purple coat, and her shoulders were tight against her body. The temperature had dropped dramatically over the past hour, a sign that the expecte
