Chapter One
Harry Finn rose as usual at six thirty, made coffee, let the dog out
into the fenced backyard for its morning constitutional, showered,
shaved, woke the kids for school and oversaw that complicated
operation for the next half hour as breakfasts were gulped,
backpacks and shoes grabbed and arguments started and settled. His
wife joined him, looking sleepy but nonetheless game for another day
as a mother/chauffeur of three, including a precocious,
independent minded teenage boy.
Harry Finn was in his thirties with still boyish features and a pair
of clear blue eyes that missed nothing. He'd married young and loved
his wife and three children and even held sincere affection toward
the family dog, a floppy eared golden Labradoodle named George. Finn
was an inch over six feet tall, with a long limbed, wiry build
ideally suited for speed and endurance. He was dressed in his usual
faded jeans and shirttail ...
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