BESTSELLERS & BEST FRIENDS
My book publishing blog, with murder mysteries woven through it.
If this is your first visit, be sure to start with “1. Let’s do it!”
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Ligonier’s Police Chief Jim and I looked at the tape.
Jim zoomed in.
The guy shoved into the backseat was a young man, a kid, maybe in his early 20s.
Jim zoomed in on the faces of the two shovers, “I don’t know them.”
“So not locals?” I asked, “Not a drunk cousin thing?”
“Nope.”
There was something about the kid’s jacket. I asked Jim to focus on it.
Holy shit!
It was my letterman’s jacket! Blue and white with three stripes for three years of lettering. Across the left chest pocket, my initials sewn in cursive: JMB. The very jacket somebody stole 25 years ago from the house Rich, Freeman, Matt, and I shared in Pittsburgh.
What the fuck?
I asked Jim to focus on the kid’s face.
He did. Then he said, “I don’t know the kid either.”
But I did. And something in my gut told me not to tell Police Chief Jim.
It was Joey, Freeman’s son.
What the hell?
Tomorrow: Riding the rails