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CHAPTER 7 - MY FATHER'S LOVE
Wednesday, November 21
Keegan was back from the sin bin. That meant we could get some good old-fashioned American street violence.
It had been a quiet watch. Wired and tired, I counted down the minutes to its end. Keegs was still unsettled about Tommy Parker's suicide, having mentioned it several times. He couldn't sit still. He fiddled with his pen, went through an entire pouch of chewing tobacco, and made me stop so he could smoke.
I understood the cause of his anxiety. The past few days saw a multiple homicide shooting, a necromancy ceremony, and an old homeless guy with a witch's bottle.
We Drove to Potter Church, hoping to kill the shift in peace. I backed into an opening in the trees, killed the lights, and opened my window. We were across the street from the groundskeeper's house. The lights were on, and a lone street lamp stood in the front yard. The home predated the War of 1812 and was a historical landmark.
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The Witch's Bottle CHAPTER 9 - THE DEVIL'S SHARE
Tuesday, November27th 14:55 Hours Lieutenant Chaney's voice resounded over the loudspeaker as he announced roll call in the Bullpen. I closed my locker and headed to the squad room. They changed the uniform of the day for the winter. Many had broken out the jackets and watch caps that were standard issue. I, however, preferred the sweater with a turtleneck. The coat was too cumbersome, and I was not fond of it. I only used it when it actually turned cold or snowed hard. This was Max and me's first official briefing as husband and wife. When I left the locker room, I saw her chatting with Marcello. I walked behind her, put my arms around her collar, and kissed her cheek. She turned and smiled. Our faces must have looked priceless. I still felt the effects of this morning's lovemaking. I knew Max did as well. If I could, I'd take her back into the locker room. Keegs, of course, noticed, flung his head backward, and sighed
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