A quick glance at Connelly’s meal revealed that her husband wasn’t eating with any gusto either. “Some celebratory meal, huh?” she said. He turned his mouth up into a wry smile. “I guess I don’t have much of an appetite.” “Yeah.” Even the call from Detective Benson hadn’t been enough to buoy their spirits. He’d confirmed that Costopolous had had no recent visitors, had made no phone calls, and, perhaps most compelling, had no way to know that Sasha and Connelly had just moved. All the publicly available information about them still listed her old address. As far as he was concerned, the rock that had crashed through the kitchen window couldn’t be traced back to Costopolous. Although that was a relief, it also meant that it could have been a message from some other vengeful enemy lurking in the shadows. Or a fourteen-year old with too much time on his hands.
