Chapter 12For the last ten minutes, Wolfe had been locked up in his bedroom, on the phone with his mother. Passing time, Gaspard walked over to Wolfe’s bookcase in the living room to see what he’d spot on the crowded shelves. He saw some gay classics there, such as Isherwood and Baldwin, but the bulk of Wolfe’s book collection was mostly nonfiction, consisting of college manuals on psychology or substance abuse, and an array of textbooks dog-eared in various places.
He picked up a picture frame on Wolfe’s desk. It was a snapshot of Wolfe and another man standing on a trail, surrounded by sequoia trees. The sun was in their eyes, and they were both grinning at the camera. The other man had a protective arm around Wolfe’s neck and seemed to be pulling him near when the picture had been snap
