Chapter 7
Mac stared out the window of his attic room. It was Sunday, and he’d just finished his shift at Crumpet Strumpet. The afternoon, empty and devoid of responsibility, stretched before him, almost unwelcome. It had been one week since he’d last seen Hamburger…or Barley, Mac guessed he should call him now.
Outside, a rare-for-Seattle summer rain was drizzling down, making Green Lake look misty and green. Mac could imagine himself being in Ireland. Sundays in summer, the lake was usually crowded with visitors and Green Lake Way, beneath him, choked with bumper-to-bumper, stop-and-go traffic.
But the rain had kept people away. There were, of course, a few brave souls—dedicated runners and walkers determined not to let a little precipitation deter them. Mac watched their progress thr
