The boxes had been neatly filed away by that point, and Abner was nursing a pack of Dandy Boy apples—eating slowly for once, popping the slices into his mouth one by one. Strange how a full stomach took away the sense of desperation. He still slipped the remainder of the snack into his coat when Anderson turned his attention to him, too used to being reprimanded for showing weaknesses like hunger.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, stiffly getting to his feet. The cold of the concrete floor had settled into his bones, a painful reminder that his body still aged, even if his brain had stalled a decade ago.

Ms. Connelly beamed at the pair, a bright spot in the otherwise dim basement. “Good night, boys. I hope you found what you were looking for,” she said. “And thanks again for all the help, Abner. I might have to borrow you again sometime.”

He’d...like that, he thought, surprising himself. Connelly was nice. Made him feel useful. Unlikely his superiors would lend him out for something so comparatively insignificant, though. Not unless there was a bribe involved.

Once again, he stayed silent until they were out of earshot of the woman. “Any leads?” he asked quietly. “I think you can rule Ms. Connelly out as a suspect, anyway. Wrong voice. And I can’t imagine her using me for something besides lifting boxes.”