W. Simon Hahn—“W” for worm—stood in Angel’s university office, in front of her desk, shaking his finger at her like a student caught cheating on a test. “It’s been bad enough you’ve developed a reputation—” “A reputation?” Angel’s voice rose in both octave and volume. “Wha...
I found her at my favorite coffee house, where she’d just arrived after a walk with Hercule. Hercule didn’t much care for leashes, mind you, but he loved the café’s blueberry muffins and the owners loved him. A few months ago, Angel had been sitting outside at the café whe...
No drugs or nothin’. We were trying to get Annie outa this damn place—outa this neighborhood. He worked odd jobs everywhere he could find ‘em. Sometimes he painted houses. Sometimes he mowed grass or somethin’. I dunno where this last one was. His friend got him a few hours a week—you know, just ...