13
Ambigo arrived with a couple of police cars behind him. Troy and I were set to the side as the officers went to work cording off the area and widening the hole in the trunk. Ambigo stooped beside the pile of candles. He pulled out a pen and tapped them apart. His eyes flickered to me.
He stood and pocketed his pen before he strode over to us. “Did you touch that pile?”
I shrugged. “I was just trying to tidy up before you guys got here. Sorry about the leaves.”
He pursed his lips. “I could have you thrown in jail, both for tampering with evidence and for being an uncooperative material witness.”
“A good reporter’s gotta report,” I countered.
“You’d find that much harder to do in jail,” he argued.
I stepped back. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
Troy set a hand on my shou
