"Thank you, Mrs. Stockwell," said Chris. His gaze skated over the property. He had an itch on the back of his neck. Something weird or wrong scratching at him. While Colt had the ability to suss out the sneakiest liar, Riley didn't have that kind of alarm bell. Still, Ms. Hatty's place gave him an overall feeling of foreboding.
The chilly air scraped at his face. Chris stamped his feet as the cold seeped into the open spaces of his coat. "How many parolees live here, ma'am?"
"About a dozen" said Mrs. Stockwell. "And three regular employees live on the property full-time. And before you ask, yes, my employees are former prisoners."
"All men?" asked Laura.
Chris lifted an eyebrow. "Some men aren't into women," he said. "Do you account for homosexuality?"
