22 KentKent’s Friday workday was ending.
Champ hadn’t answered his calls or acknowledged his text.
Soon as he finished his business in Cheney, he drove to the Legal Resource Center.
He hoped to find Quinn Isaacs still at work. If Champ saw her boss’s name on her cellphone screen, she’d pick up.
But it was six o’clock and the place was dark, the door locked.
He called the on-duty dispatcher and asked her for a home phone number for Isaacs. No luck. But she found Channing Palmer in the Spokane directory.
He knew no one else who worked at the Center. He couldn’t phone her. She’d probably hang up, too.
He’d have to try her in person.
By six-thirty, he was facing her townhouse door, hoping to talk himself inside and into her good graces. How he’d manage that was a mystery he hadn’t yet
