Chapter 8
I’m still standing in front of the police station when my phone pings.
Belinda: I have what you crave.
The morning sunshine promises the first hot day of summer. I can taste the heat in the air, along with the aroma of maple syrup and bacon from the Springside Pancake House.
My stomach rumbles.
In the restaurant’s big bay window, I catch the explosion of blonde curls and a wave.
Belinda’s right. She absolutely does. I text Malcolm to let him know where I am, although I don’t expect a response. He was up late. Apparently, contacting old college buddies involves playing video games until two in the morning.
The breakfast rush is still half an hour away, so it’s seat yourself at the Pancake House. I do, picking a booth in Belinda’s section. This early, I can hear the chatter
