Whispers at Midnight
Chapter One
June 28
"I hear you two had a fight."
Matt Converse watched the boyfriend's eyes. They flicked away,
came back almost immediately. The guy - Keith Kenan,
thirty-six years old, one divorce, employed on the line at
Honda for five years and resident of Benton for that same
period, clean police record except for one brawl over in
Savannah two years back and a couple of old DUIs - was
nervous. Nervous didn't always equal guilt, but it bore
watching.
"Who told you that?"
Matt shrugged noncommittally.
"So what if we did? That don't mean anything. Everybody has
fights." Kenan's tone was defensive. He was getting agitated.
Matt observed the quickening of his breathing, the tightening
of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, with clinical
detachment. Kenan was a big, burly guy with a dark blond buzz
cut, smallish pale blue eyes, and a tattoo of a heart pierced
by a dagger on one pumped-up biceps, which was bared by the
ratty tank top he was wearing with black nylon gym shorts. The
two of them were standing in the combination living/dining
room of the apartment Kenan shared with Marsha Hughes.
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