Chapter 9
“Patrick? Are you home? I see your car in the driveway, so I think you’re home,” a familiar voice said.
I opened the front door and saw Mark Cross standing on my porch. He looked as good as ever in a tight black T-shirt, jeans, and running shoes.
“Hey, Mark,” I said. “Come in.”
As I stepped aside to let Mark in, I thought I saw a curtain move at Gary’s house next door. Figuring I was just being paranoid, I put the thought out of my mind and closed the door behind Mark. I hadn’t seen him since my backyard cookout a few weeks ago. He looked agitated, like he wanted to talk, so I offered him a beer. He accepted.
“This is a pleasant surprise,” I told him as we sat down on the sun porch. “What brings you here today?”
“I was in the neighborhood. Darren’s sister lives in Evanston,
