daily – 63

“Michael Nemmons?” Frustration edges the disapproving officer’s voice. His eyes flick to Patrick on the stairs.  “Patrick Nemmons?”

“Yes, that’s us.” I wave an arm toward the office upstairs. “My system was just hacked and…”

I trail off, because the disapproving officer has stepped back slightly, and is looking back at the Interpol officer.

Out on the tiny patch of front lawn, the embarrassed looking man’s eyes meet mine, almost accidentally, then he coughs slightly into a loose fist and straightens up.


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