The neighborhood had a pretentious name, The Parkside, but Wyse hadn’t seen a park within miles. Just a maze of cutesy, vomit-inducing street names, like Hawthorn Hedge Lane, and an SUV or Ford-150 in four out of five driveways. Aw, there it was! A one-story house, what some people at one time ca...
He stopped at a recessed back door of a furniture store and with an audible sigh wearily sat down, wedged his back against the door and shoulder against the jamb. He hugged the half empty bottle of cheap wine with both arms as if it were grand Bordeaux. Breathing deeply, he let his chin slowly dr...
Not nearly enough to efficiently handle the number of people. A digital clock on the wall behind the booths showed 16:30 hours, Sunday evening. What would that be in Seattle? 8:30 Sunday morning, he thought without conviction. For some reason, the International Date Line made the calculation more...