For the second morning in a row, Tony awoke to the sound of knocking. These knocks were louder and more urgent than K.J.’s had been and they were accompanied by cries of, “Police, Mr. Lang. Open up.”
Tony quickly shrugged on some clothes and went to see what the commotion was about. Through the peephole, he spied a uniformed officer, possibly the same one who drove him home the night of the murder.
“What’s this all about?” Tony asked after opening the door.
“Sir, you’re going to have to come with me down to the station,” the officer said. “We’ve received a credible threat on your life.”
Tony searched the man’s face for some hint that this might all be a joke and, finding none, allowed his own jaw to fall slack.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. His stomach clenched and he was thankful that it was empty.

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