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Just what the hell is it
with you, Huckleberry?
We caught the son of a
bitch with his hands in the
sauce, and you've got me
listening to all this
bullshit about weird dudes
and plastic bags and he-she
hookers instead of trying
to get a confession
out of him!
Reluctantly, Rob followed his superior out
of the interrogation room. Carter wheeled
on him before they'd gone a dozen steps.
Jesus H. Christ, I
could've been home in bed
by now if it wasn't for
you babying the little punk
instead of doing your
fucking job!
The name is Maitland,
Detective Carter -- just
like it was back in there
with the suspect. And I do
apologize if I overstepped
myself, but I was under the
obviously mistaken impression
that my job entailed finding
out the truth.
Rob studied the man levelly.
We're holding the
wrong man, boss.
Patrick St. Claire is not
our Comanche Killer, but
I think maybe he could
lead us to whoever it
really is.
The sergeant merely glared at him, eyes
narrowed in hostility, and Rob sighed.
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Mature
145
60
7
4 
7 
2 comments
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Hey, you, at the lab: Your "Wesley Carter" experiment has gone wrong. Take him back in and modify his hotheadedness.
Dec 2nd
Now THAT is how you police, Mr. Big-shot-pompous-jerk.
Dec 2nd