About twenty minutes after Roger had left me in his office there was a knock on the door. I opened it to see Trent standing there.
“They’re gone, so let’s go back to my office.”
“Did they give you the third degree about me?” I asked as we walked down the hallway.
“Not sure it was that, but they did ask a lot of questions, even though I told them I hadn’t seen you in over two years. They wanted to know your habits, who you used to hang out with, if I knew why you were homeless, the usual fact-finding foray on their part.” He chuckled. “They now know you drink your coffee black, you hate wearing anything fancier than jeans and work shirts, you’re an avid reader, and that there isn’t anything you can’t fix when it comes to plumbing.”
We’d barely sat down when a young man came into the off
