CHAPTER SEVEN
Three and a half hours later, Zero stood in front of a beige storefront in a small strip mall in what he would consider a rough neighborhood of the city. Its façade was chipped and worn, and the particular store in question was lacking a sign. Instead, two words were painted on the inside of the window in large white strokes: SWIFT THRIFT.
Strickland had given him both her home address and her workplace and let him know that she’d be done with her shift when the thrift shop closed at seven. It was about quarter after five, but Zero couldn’t wait that long. Besides, he was aware she lived with several roommates. By the looks of the small store, he had a better chance of having a private moment there than he did at her home.
Her home. His heart broke anew with the thought, t
