I want to seek out Christopher, but something holds me back. It’s been bothering me since the night of the poker game, questions half-formed and smoky in my head. Only Sutton can tell me the truth about this.
Except Sutton isn’t here.
He works at the library every day with the crew. He’s the main person I talk to, how I know about the many, many problems they’ve found. The foundation problems.
The plumbing leaks. The termites. The broken pipes.
If testosterone were to stand up and walk around, it would look like Asher Cook. The foreman of the construction crew wears a white T-shirt, always crisp and clean in the morning. He’s the only person here I actually know, now that Sutton’s disappeared.
Always smudged in dirt and sweat by the end of the day.
His muscles bulge in a way that loo
