THE FIRST 48
Chapter One
Tom Redmon didn't need to hear more, but he knew the couple needed to talk.
Beneath the desk, he clenched and unclenched his hand, squeezing the tennis
ball, trying to be patient. Finally they finished. The mother was sniffing and
dabbing her eyes with a napkin from McDonald's. He looked past them and out
through the old glass to a bright locust tree, wavy and distorted.
In his office, the paneling of one wall sagged under the weight of diplomas. A
1996 calendar of a German castle high on a mountaintop hung by a pushpin. In a
wood frame was a cheap print of van Gogh's View of Montmartre with Windmills.
Tom loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. Size nineteen. If he could have,
he'd have taken off his coat.
The couple was young. Their little girl sat between them, her eyes hollow, her
head bald and white. When she smiled, her teeth ... read full excerpt from The First 48 ebook
