The Flour Girl
It would take a bag of flour and a taste test to finally drag them back into the same book.
“Bags, Zachary,” I said, and my voice cracked.
“There are dozens of plastic bags full of white powder hidden under the bed frame.” “Wait, what?” The chuckle again, more nervous now.
“Okay, just, stop touching things and let me finish this one call.” “Get up here right now,” I said, and I hung up on him.
Chapter 10 — Six Months
While I waited for him, standing over the open suitcase like a guard over a body, my mind raced back over the last six months, reexamining every single day of them in the harsh new light of what I thought I had found.
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