by Jason Beech
“Put your gun down, Bob.”
“I take it back. You do know personal. This death is personal. An affront to your sense of justice. This is your life. You fucking prig, acting like being on the streets is textbook.”
Larry's frame shook like Mike Tyson pounded him.
“What's your justice now? Helping me bring down Garcia? Or arresting me for the life of a fucking scab?”
“Put the gun down, Bob. Last warning.”
Robert let his gun hit the concrete. Slid it backwards into the water with his heel. “I'm walking, Larry. If you stop me I'll resist. Do as you please.”
He pounded full strides past his partner, expressive of the hard evidence for Garcia's guilt. He didn't look over his shoulder as he heard the click. His dreams never lied.