AS DOBBINS DROVE us to the vacated store, I had a couple moments of sanity. Couldn't I have put this off until after the service tomorrow? Dobbins looked over at me a few times, and I guess he was wondering the same thing. The place was in Surrey, the next town over, which was about as quaint as Trinity Falls, only Surrey had a liquor store. Across the street was a small row of storefronts that probably used to be real stores before anyone dreamed up malls. Now they held an insurance office, the former discount shoe place, and an art gallery that probably stayed in business thanks to eBay. We got there right around sunset, and I stared at the soaped-over windows as Dobbins pulled into a spot directly in front. The place had an ominous feel, with the setting sun reflecting off the soap instead of letting you see in. Maybe any deserted place with soaped-over windows feels ominous. I opened the passenger door. Dobbins came around beside me, sniffing the air like it might smell of clues. "I don't suppose you've ever broken into a place," I said.
