Bartenders, I think exasperatedly. I should know better. And I'm over the man bun, to tell you the truth. Now that everyone, including the Ken doll, is sporting one, I feel like cutting it off while he's sleeping. Maybe next time.

Since, I'm planning to go out with Elise after work, I ride my baby down to Post St. As I scoot, my thoughts move to a slightly less upsetting topic — the fact that no one is getting anywhere in solving the murders of Hannah and Lucie. I checked the news online first thing this morning, and even the reporter, Max Devlin, who wrote the only story about Lucie, has moved on to other topics.

When I get to the library, I send Max an email, telling him I want to talk. I also send one to my cousin Emma, asking what developments she and her friends at...

Please subscribe to keep reading.