Chapter 7Ashley
I GRABBED THE newspaper and headed to my car. I read for the dozenth time the memorial notice for James Koppler. He'd been shot in 2008. How could he have just died if Fritz had killed him a year ago? Could this be another cover-up? From my own experience, that possibility wouldn't come as a surprise. I looked up but the real surprise struck hard—my car was gone.
The lot emptied faster than a keg at a frat party, so only a couple dozen remained, and none were red. I reached in my pocket and my keys jingled. I turned around to report the theft at the office and to call the police. The door opened and Sandy and Tom Jaffrey walked out.
“What's wrong?” Sandy asked.
“What makes you think something's wrong?”
“Your face.”
“My car's gone.”
“Have you checked at home? Maybe yo
