Chapter Thirty-Four
I returned to my computer and scanned news headlines. Nothing in there about sniper shootings, including the one aimed at me. I pondered this. Why would someone take a shot at me? Who’d be threatened by me?
The case file sat on the coffee table. I grabbed it and moved into my small kitchen. Rocky the Squirrel waited outside on the windowsill. I set the file on my tiny kitchen table, retrieved the peanut jar from its shelf, and fished out his breakfast.
“Hey, Rocky.” I slid the window and screen open, then addressed him in my most squirrel-friendly tone. “Want a peanut?”
Rocky focused on the hand-delivered nut. My rodent friend grabbed it from my fingers and stuffed it in his mouth. A liberal sprinkling of nuts met the same fate. Rocky’s cheeks soon bulged with lumps
