Chapter 15
(Seattle, Washington, early Wednesday morning, Oct. 1, 2013)
"MAC, WAKE UP," LINDY said urgently.
Mac rolled out of bed into a crouch. His aunt wisely stood back when she called his name.
"What's wrong?" Mac asked, glancing at the clock near his bed that read 5 a.m.
"There's a policeman at the door, asking for you," she said. "Lt. Rodriguez sent him. Said he couldn't get you to pick up his call."
Mac pulled on jeans and a shirt while he listened to her. "Did he say why?"
Lindy shook her head. "Something about Janet."
Mac nodded, laced up his shoes, and grabbed his bag. It had everything in it he could need for a story—computer, camera, pens, paper and a 9mm in the bottom. He found his phone, glanced at it. "s**t," he said. He'd muted it at the radio station and forgotten
