CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Franklin stared at the phone for a minute, maybe longer. It’d be a miracle if he’d made sense to the lead detective on the Hudson case. Then he wondered if Marty Howell was running on empty too.
His yawn cracked his jaw and made his eyes water. Exhausted and strained didn’t make for good bedfellows, especially on top of excessive caffeine. He may as well test a few theories and try to sleep later.
Yesterday, he’d finally caught a line on the burgs, then they’d received the urgent callout to Crow Street. He couldn’t reverse time to change the outcome of that, but he could break the back of these burgs. One win wouldn’t offset the enormity of his failure, but it would go a long way in restoring his sense of self.
He used to think that his self was largely the blue uni
