Friday let Rossiter’s phone ring until the answering machine clicked on.
She hung up, sat in the car, holding her cell phone.
Rossiter wasn’t at the precinct. He was on a late shift. He slept during the day. Maybe he was still asleep. Maybe he was out. Errands? He didn’t have hobbies.
Clouds dimmed the sun.
Was his cell out of juice?
Friday started her car engine.