Chapter Eleven
Crates Bondage
Peter Kimball sat on the patio beside the pool looking out at the ocean beyond the sea cliffs. The roar of the surf was mesmerizing; haunting and tranquil. He nursed a drink, scotch and soda, sipping intermittently after having downed his first drink in two swallows so he could feel an immediate buzz. So engrossed in the nothingness of his thoughts, he didnt hear the sound of high heels clicking on the tiles.
Still no luck? Sharons voice disturbed the quiet.
Nope, still no luck. The detective I hired says it just takes time.
But its good news that shes safe. She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.
He looked up. You know what pisses me off?
Whats that?
That shes left a big question mark in my life. If she wants a divorce, why the he
