Chapter 7
By his fourth cup of coffee, Duke couldn’t even taste it anymore. He’d been sucking it down since showing up at the precinct three hours earlier. Breakfast had been filling, but Duke had deliberately eaten quickly, anxious to get out as soon as possible. The night had been quiet. Too quiet. The most noise came from Duke’s thoughts, which had ranged everywhere from the shooting, to Scott’s silk pajama bottoms, to Nieves’s claims, and back to Scott again.
Everything kept coming back to James Scott. Coming into work had been a godsend.
The first thing he did was call the cops who’d taken their statements the night before. As he’d asked, they’d run the partial plate but come up with a list too large to really work with. He thanked them for their help, then got off and ran the part
