My 6-year-old granddaughter phoned me in panic just after midnight. “Mommy says the baby is coming! Help!” I asked, “Where’s daddy?” She answered, “He k!cked mommy’s tummy and left.”…..

These things happen. Harry repeated. You think a man kicking his pregnant wife is just something that happens? Look, Kane, I know you’re upset, but where is he? Who? Trent, where’s the piece of garbage who did this? Timon shrugged. Haven’t been able to locate him yet. Probably sleeping it off somewhere. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Get his version of events.

His version. Harry moved closer. You want to hear his version of why he kicked a pregnant woman in the stomach? That’s how investigations work. We talked to both parties, get statements. The only statement you need is from a six-year-old girl who watched her father try to kill her mother and baby brother. Harry’s voice carried down the empty hallway.

But you’re not interested in that statement. Are you Tims? Because Trent’s one of your drinking buddies. Timonss’s face flushed red. You better watch a mouth, Cain. I don’t have to take that kind of talk from you. You’re right. Harry said calmly. You don’t because you can get in your patrol car, drive back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and pretend this conversation never happened.

But if I find out you’ve been helping Trent cover this up, we’re going to have a different kind of conversation. Timmons opened his mouth to respond, then seem to think better of it. He turned and walked away, his boots squeaking on the polished floor. Harry watched him go, memorizing the set of his shoulders and the way he favored his left leg.

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