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“I don’t know any Connor Grant And that’s the truth”

Conklin was looking at so that was all but hidden under the bed on wheels He reached under and with a gloved hand pulled out a fat notebook that looked to be handwritten and dog-eared

I knehat it was In fact, Conklin had found this notebook or one just like it in Grant’s garage laboratory

He read the title out loud “‘How to Make a Bomb: For Twenty-Five Dollars in Twenty-Five Minutes, by Connor A Grant’ Bedti, Mr Mitchell?”

Looked like Haight sed the ordinary and stupid protest I don’t knohat that is or how it got there, but he wore the hangdog expression of defeat

A ed it Niles turned to me

“Sergeant Boxer? Will you d

o the honors?”

Conklin was right there withon his bed

“Dylan Mitchell?”

He looked into my face and broke out into a smile

“Oh, h to actually see lipstick on a pig”

I said, “I’ll take that as a yes”

Conklin walked behind hihtly

“Mr Mitchell, you have the right to remain silent, understand?”