Chapter 14
If anyone had told Gary he would be standing in Alexander Lasseter’s kitchen by the end of the day, feeling an understandable attraction to the big man that warred with his concern over the reporter sitting at the small breakfast bar, he would have said it sounded like something out of a script. Make believe would have been his preference in this case. Maybe Phillip was right and this was the last place anyone would think to look for them, but, man, the circumstances were surreal.
From the front, the street looked quite ordinary, if somewhat rural. One couldn’t even see the Thames flowing behind the single-level building. The bungalow had a wooden conservatory, where one could sit and watch the flow of boats and water. French doors led out to the sloped garden at the back, dow
