Rick Johnson’s house was a few blocks from Alissa’s, just a short walk across the park and past a few shops; a laundrette, a post office and a fish n’ chip shop. It was a more substantial walk from Ravens, but the situation called for it. Raven hadn’t provided much of an insight—something told her Rick would be more helpful. She had doubts about her theory, but at this point she was running on pure instinct.
A group of older kids loitered on the bench outside the chip shop. They turned their attention to Alissa as she passed them, shouting crude insults that didn’t faze Alissa. Usually she would fire something back, spark a confrontation, end up engaged in a battle of wits she was bound to win—these kids weren’t the smartest. Today she disappointed them by failing to respond.
Patc
