Chen was sitting on the couch in my apartment right where Crawford had been when we kicked the door down almost a year ago. The realization must have struck him because he all of a sudden slid over to the other side of the couch. “I’m thinking that this is messed up, Link. I mean, this was his apartment. You put this bullet hole in the couch.” Chen stuck his finger into the hole in the upholstery and wiggled it around. “I told you, Chen, it was a necessity. I needed to tear this place apart, even more than we had. I needed to know what he was thinking. And I needed a place to stay that wasn’t going to break the bank. You try affording apartments in Warsaw and Lyon at the same time.” “No thanks, one mortgage payment is enough for me. I get it, Link, but it’s still weird.” “Yeah, but you get used to it. And I doubt we would’ve found the body in the storage locker otherwise.”
