“Like… have them?” he asks.
“Yes.”
I look at the screen again.
At the entire structure finally exposed.
“Like indictments-have-them.”
81
Saint
The call comes while I’m behind the bar.
I’m wiping down the counter, trying to get the smell of burned coffee out of the wood.
Laney is upstairs sleeping with the baby.
For once.
Actually sleeping.
Havoc is fighting with the television cable.
Losing.
The Magnolia Ladies are still in the corner booth.
Planning something involving a bake sale, a protest, and what Mable calls “revenge with frosting.”
It’s well past their bedtime.
My phone rings.
Unknown number.
I answer it anyway.
“Saint Lawson.”
The man on the other end hesitates.
“Mr. Lawson… there’s been an incident.”
Something cold spreads through my chest.
“Where?”
“The house next to the library.”
My hand tightens around the phone.
I’m already moving.
“Is anyone hurt?”
A pause.
