Carrying the half-full bottle of water, I went out the back door, Dutchie following me, and headed up to my apartment. Everything looked so normal there, so unchanged, and I realized I hadn’t been there since my parents — since Devin — well, since. It was no sanctuary, though, no place where I could hide from what had happened.
That wasn’t my reason for being here, though. I set the gun down on the coffee table, got out of my clothes from the day before and stuffed them into the hamper, and then pulled on fresh jeans and socks, and a waffle-weave henley shirt I wore sometimes when I went hiking. My hiking boots were tucked into the far corner of the closet, and I got them out as well and laced them on. I had no idea what I might encounter today, so it seemed smart to be wearing comfortabl
