Chapter Thirty-One
That old buzzard was loose again.
Pete Malovitch thumped his finger against the window frame in his insurance office. The day had only just begun, but he had to put on his doctor's hat and fill out bogus claims. Dad had taught him well; the extra income came in handy when he needed to shut up his wife and kids.
Was that bastard ever actually inside Hillcrest? Pete was willing to bet he didn't even go to the bathroom there anymore. How could he, when he was always downtown?
He watched the old man swagger down the street. He clicked his fingernail on the metal frame repeatedly ... and paused.
Something swirled in his head. Memories. Pictures mixed with voices. Images of his dad reading the newspaper at the kitchen table.
His little boy eyes had watched Dad's thick
