Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Thou Shalt Not Lie

by Colleen Foley

I’d driven all night, breaking every speed limit for three states to arrive early. I felt as if I’d been chasing the carrot you dangle in front of racehorses.

It wasn’t what Jimmy had said – “That dumbass!”– it was the tone. Like he’d known.

I walked into Jimmy’s kitchen, stiff and aching from the drive. He was at the table, two shots of Jack already poured. He looked like fresh brewed hell. One glance cinched it, and rage geysered up my spine, threatening to eclipse me.

I ignored the liquor and aimed my gun at him.

“How damned long, Jimmy?”


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