24
I drove back to Blair Marshall and Naomi Hoffman’s street, parking a few houses down from the home they shared. I had an unobstructed view of the place but no idea if anyone was there. They had replaced the front door.
I got a text from Becca saying she’d posted the video on VidTube and had sent links to it to all of her social media followers, encouraging them to make it go viral.
The burner phone rang. “Ballou Fugitive Recovery.”
A female voice shouted, “I f*****g hate you, you goddamn faggot! If you don’t leave Blair alone, I’ll—”
I ended the call. Great. Here we go again.
I silenced the phone. Let the calls go to voicemail. I’d sort them out later.
I grew restless sitting in the Gray Ghost and took a walk around the house with my Taser in hand. On the front porch, Hoffman had
