Finally, it was time to leave. I went into the bedroom to change clothes and then loosened my hair, the way it had been the first time Seaver had seen me. I say the first time because I’m very certain he was at Pender’s house when I got there—either outside watching for me, or inside, waiting to see what I’d do when I found the body.
When I came out of the bedroom, Trent gave me a thumbs-up as he handed me the photo, which I stuck in my jeans pocket. “You look like you did a couple of days ago when you came to the office except…” He cocked his head. “Yeah, you’re a bit too clean.” He tapped his face.
I winced because I knew what he meant. When you live on the streets, you don’t really care if your hands are dirty or if you have grime on your face. Surviving is more important than cleanliness most of the time.