Chapter Fourteen
His dad was at the counter of the bakery department, talking to Stan. No, that was impossible. It was too early, and he’d just started work. His dad couldn’t be there. He tied the package of cookies and put it on the tray with the others to go out on the shelf.
His dad was walking his way.
“No, I’m not done. You have to leave. Go shop,” Trevor said. There was no way he was leaving yet. He still had two trays to package, and the broken cookies were the peanut butter ones. Shortbread would be coming next. He could smell them in the oven, and he liked those more. He wasn’t going to miss it.
“Sorry, bud. The DA called about the robbery guys, and we have to go down to see him.” His dad was in a jean jacket, his new one, which wasn’t faded yet. He must not have heard what Tr
