Robert stared at the metal box as if he had never seen it before.
His hands slid into his jacket pockets, and he cleared his throat without speaking.
“I spoke to Frank this morning,” I said, watching his shoulders stiffen.
“Frank is retired, or close enough to it,” Robert said, his voice dropping into that low, mumbling frequency he used whenever he wanted to avoid a real conversation.
“He shouldn’t be getting mixed up in family business,” he added.
“This isn’t a business, Robert,” I said.
I reached down to adjust the leather strap of my watch, pulling it one notch tighter against my wrist to steady myself.
The small, metallic ticking of the watch was the only steady thing on the street.
“You haven’t been here,” Robert muttered, his eyes still fixed on his boots. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to manage him.”
“I know what I saw at the police station,” I said.
