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SO TODAY WAS FINALLY the day. More like, today had to be the day. Sloane had fucked off for longer than she liked in a city she longed to get away from. She had to start gathering info for this assignment today. She'd basically been lying to Bobby every time he called and pretended her mom was shouting for her whenever he asked for details.
Sloane did her usual routine for any working day. She got up an hour past dawn, showered, shaved, and brushed her teeth. She blow-dried her hair and worked it into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She shoved her legs into a pair of jeans that were too small and a white sweater that made her look positively innocent, along with a pair of antique gold hoops in her ears. She made herself toast with – bleh, her mom kept almond butter around the house rather than regular ol' peanut. It would have to do. She ate the toast with a frown, washing it down with some coffee and a swig from the Grey Goose. No one was there to watch her bad habits. Frank had probably already gone to work and Everett started school at seven AM. Sabrina wasn't even up yet when Sloane finally walked out the door.
Autumn in New York rivaled the temperatures in Vermont. It was practically almost winter here. Frost covered the windshields of every car parked on the street and Sloane could see her own breath in the air. Leaves that were still hanging by a thread on their branches were coated with ice. Sloane hugged her parka closer and buried her red nose inside the collar. Her hands felt like they were going numb. Serves her right for forgetting her gloves back at home.
Home, she thought with a sigh. She missed Jerry.
There were just about a hundred police departments in all of Queens, basically one on every block. But while on the phone with Bobby last night, they combed through some articles and found the name of the lead investigator on the case. "Lawrence Fogelman," Bobby had read aloud. "He speaks to the press in every single article we've seen, and yet, he's done jack shit regarding the case. Seems like the kind of guy who loves the limelight without doing any actual work." Sloane had to agree with him. Lawrence, or Larry for short, worked for the 104th Precinct in the Ridgewood neighborhood. She was going to give him a visit this morning.
