#v;the-wrong-direction

Shepherd had been enjoying his day off until he heard the frantic knock at his door. Who could possibly be here at this hour? Probably one of the poor souls from the church or one of Anna’s friends or something. Then again, his daughter wasn’t even home. He answered the door and let out a bitter, heavy sigh.

It was Jack Wynand, covered in sweat, but he could still smell the booze on him. His so-called partner had ran here for some reason, and violated their agreement that he wasn’t to turn up at Shepherd’s home unannounced.