A Natural

Officer Kitchener—that is what he had become; Bill could tell from the stiffness in the man's neck that he was not Jake anymore—didn't answer. Instead, he glanced into the kitchen. His eyebrows crinkled slightly at the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Is Norma home?”

“No, she's at a church thing.” The dishes forced Bill to elaborate further. “She threw together some muffins and ran out the door. She didn't even have time to clean up.”

“I see.”

Bill pushed out the obvious question. The one he had to ask. “So, what are you here for, exactly?”

“Do you know the Buchanan girl? Tall, skinny--around seventeen?”





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