Chapter Two
Logan rinsed out the cheap white mug in the deep sink of his tiny kitchen. He took his time wiping it dry as he glanced out the back window at the young kids running and skipping past with their backpacks. He set the cup back in one of the six cupboards and snapped it closed. All the cupboards had been painted white, still bearing the dated handles from the Fifties. The cracked linoleum floor squeaked when he walked, but then, everything in this older house did; especially since Logan wasn’t a small man. He was the eldest of the Wilde brothers. He checked on his brothers often—not so often as to arouse suspicion, just enough for his own peace of mind.
He reminded himself that daily phone calls to check in weren’t okay—and weekly was pushing it. He could get away with a call e
