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Michael snapped his fingers in front of Crosby’s face, his own expression severe with impatience “Answer my question”

“That’s why I hate cops,” Crosby grumbled “No manners”

“That’s funny co from you, Crosby Answer Detective Sullivan’s questions or I’ll send Isla in here”

Michael didn’t knohy the idea of sending one of the wait staff in here would bother the cook so lared at Michael like a petulant schoolboy “I got a trailer over on Oak Meadows”

Michael nodded, knowing the area well after searching all over Hartwell for Jackson

“Thisout of Willy Nettle’s old trailer”

Michael turned to Cooper

“He died about eight hter lives in New York Sheit”

Jesus Son of a bitch Michael had been out all over the county looking for him, they had an APB out all over the East Coast for this dirty bastard, and he’d been hiding under their fuckin’ noses?

“How did I not know about this?”

Cooper grimaced at Crosby “Please telle?”

His cook scowled “If I had seen anything weird going on there, I would have said so And we don’t knoas Freddie Jackson I saw”

“Was the person male or female? How tall? What build?”

“It Was Dark,” Crosby spoke condescendingly slow

Michael tried to hold on to his patience “But you saw so they were”