Chapter 67

“Go home,” Randy repeated. “Get your stuff and go. I have things to do.”

* * * *

When Randy had first arrived in Wolf, clutching the printout from the realtor’s website, he’d had two suitcases and his laptop bag. They now rested on the bed, open, getting filled at a rate that was surprisingly quick for someone who had to do the back and forth between dresser and bed with a limp. As he packed, his rage grew.