90

“Boone who?”

It’s a little scratchy over the cheap intercom speaker, but clear enough.

“I’m sorr——”

The intercom clicks off.

He hits the button again.

“I’m about to call the police.”

“Funny thing,” Boone says. “Speaking of the police—”

Dead.

He hits it again.

“Go away, Boone.”

“I was picked up on suspicion of murder.”

A pause, then she buzzes him in.

Загрузка...