And then he looked at me, and I recognized his eyes… the same eyes that had looked at me over a bulging coat pocket in the bread aisle.
A man came in through a side door.
“YOU?!” I gasped.
“Good morning, Rebecca,” Walter greeted me.
I stared at him for a long moment and held up the box.
“What’s going on, Walter? Why did you send the cops to my house? And what does this mean?”
Walter asked me to sit down.
I didn’t.
So he just stood and talked.
