“He’s going to want macaroni and cheese for dinner,” she said. “I’m not sure I have any.”
“You do.” Cal continued to rub. “You checked an hour ago.”
He was right. She had.
Detective Martin was in the dining room, having set up shop on the table her father had vacated. Giving Morgan some space while she waited. And manning the phone.
The suspect didn’t know they were on to him. He’d called twice more since breakfast. Both times exactly the same as before. Short. Cruel. And then gone.
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