Split Second

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Del Macomb wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. The stiff cotton of his uniform stuck to his back, and it was only nine in the morning. How could it be this hot and humid in October?

He had grown up just north of Hope, Minnesota. Back home, ice would be forming at the edges of Silver Lake. His daddy would be writing his sermons while watching the last of the snow geese pass overhead. Del pushed wet strands off his brow. Thinking about his daddy reminded him that he needed a haircut. Crazy stuff to be thinking about. Even crazier that it was stuff that could still make him homesick.

“So who’s the fucking asshole we’re chaperoning today?”

Del’s partner startled him. He winced at Benny Zeeks’s language, then glanced over at the barrel-chested ex-marine to see if he had noticed. He certainly didn’t need another lecture—not that he didn’t have a lot to learn from Benny.

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