waiting.
“There are agents downstairs,” he said. “Asking for you.”
Not me.
Him.
The look that passed between them told me plenty. Fear first. Then calculation. Caleb always got his morality by referral. If my father had said jump into a furnace, he’d ask how high and whether to expense the shoes.
My father recovered fast. “Who sent them?”
“I don’t know.”
I continue reading …
