The Juan Doe Murders: A Smokey Brandon Thriller - Plot & Excerpts
That’s what a U.N. Special Envoy for Immigration Issues was saying on his sound bite that morning. Yes, yes, but does that have anything to do with our Juan Does? What would ol’ Stu have waiting for me today when I got into the lab? And now there was David. He knew one of them, even if slightly. When I left the house, the empty orange juice glass with pulpy flakes clinging inside was on the counter with a paper towel under it and the word Thanks printed on it in blue ballpoint. I felt a little responsible for David, yet was also locked in indecision. I’d call his mother, that’s what I’d do, soon as I got to the lab. I rolled a plastic bloodshot eyeball around on my desk while dialing numbers to find out which real estate firm she worked for. The eye’s green iris wobbled within the sphere. “He’s home,” she said when I finally reached her. “Sleeping. I know you put him up last night. Thanks.” “You’re welcome,” I said. Her voice was modulated but I could sense the tension in it.
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