Florence Chen is Missing Ep06

The black Escalade swung a U-turn and pulled to the curb where Won was standing. Won peered at the waving driver then climbed into the back passenger’s seat.

The interior of the SUV was smooth black leather, polished inlaid wood, silver trim and powdered floor mats. Chilled cycled air carried scented oil and the lingering cologne of a previous passenger. The driver was wearing a New York Jets green-and-white windbreaker with matching well-worn baseball cap. He turned and offered his hand.

Won gamely smiled and gripped the driver’s fingers. “Tommy Frye!”

Won thought Tommy seemed smaller than the cop who’d walk handcuffed suspects into brick walls. Tommy had been a peerless intimidator, but Won now saw a version that was smaller, softer, weaker. Another reminder that age and comfort are destroyers.

A tiny dachshund in the front passenger’s seat yapped at Won. Tommy grabbed the dog’s snout and held it shut. “Don’t mind Pixy. She’s the best partner I ever had.” He leaned over to read the phon…