Turning back towards the hole in the fence, Connor spotted the bike’s owner in the kitchen window. Charlotte wasn’t wearing much. Some things never changed, even in isolation. She waved when she saw him, a puzzled smile gracing her dimpled cheeks. Connor blew her a kiss, then accelerated towards the alley.
Only one of the sprinting policemen managed to dive out of the way. The other one tried to use his face to stop the bike’s front tyre. It didn’t end well.
Then Connor was out of the alley, turning left onto Acacia Avenue and accelerating away from the shitstorm that used to be his life.
That wasn’t his style. He wasn’t used to moving away from things. He much preferred moving towards them. But for that, he needed a destination. Which required a plan. And plans had to be based on information.
The only information he had was that (allegedly) a mysterious woman had been seen leaving his yard, and had (possibly) planted an envelope for him (or the cops) to find.
Was that it? Was he being set up, after all this time? Why would they bother to plant evidence? The justice system had been scrapped.
Or was this the world’s most adventurous secret admirer delivering the most disastrous love letter ever? He smiled and got a bug in his teeth. Not the first woman to climb over his garden wall. But the way this day was going, it looked like she would definitely be the last.
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