He had nowhere to be and nothing to do, and he wrote better when it was raining. He had just turned to head back inside when he heard his cell going off. It rang so rarely these days it took a moment to register what he was hearing. Stepping in off the deck, he grabbed the phone from the top of the fridge, expecting it to be Justin saying he was on his way with the cord of wood he had ordered last week. “Wade! Buddy! How the hell are you?” Okay, not Justin. Wade scrambled to connect the voice with a face, finally landing on Glen Hoyt, Week in Review’s top crime beat writer. They had teamed up
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