A Giant's Trail A GIANT’S TRAIL “WHERE ARE WE GOING, Red?” I asked, wind ballooning my cheeks. We were freewheeling down a road pockmarked with potholes. “To kick-start this investigation,” Red called over his shoulder. “If you want to know what’s going on in this town, there’s only one place to go.” “The police station?” I guessed. Red laughed so much he missed a gear change. “The police station! Are you serious? No one tells the police anything. No, this is the opposite of the police station. This is where Papa gets all his facts. This place is off limits to civilians. Papa warned me not to bring you here. But, you know, we’re partners.” Partners? This was news to me. But good news. Red steered past Healy Hill toward the suburbs. Not the fashionable suburbs—the other ones. Red parked outside a semidetached end house with a cctv camera mounted in a mesh box over the porch. We were no sooner off the bike when three track-suited kids congregated around us. “Hey, Red,”
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