After two rings, a cigarette-roughed voice answered. “Decker,” it said. “Hey, this is Frank Behr. Your wife is friends with my girl,” Behr said, trying to keep the tone of the condemned man out of his voice. “I was supposed to call you to meet up.” “Yeah, hey. And when you did, I was supposed to ...
He rolls and hits the sleep bar, clipping off the words to an annoying pop song by some boy-band graduate who wears the same clothes and does the same moves as his backup dancers. The worst. Kids at school say they like him. Some do; the rest are just following along. Jamie listens to Green Day a...
A swirling sea of them. Hundreds. Aliases. Criminal records. Warrants. Not a sea, a bottomless pool. A suspect pool, and Behr deep-dove it. Using Breslau’s password, he had worked all through the weekend and into the following week and was able to search and cross-reference offenders with assault...