Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

folded the paper and slid it into his shirt pocket, his mind turning over the speed of the retaliation.

“Get Tyler’s boots on,” Mike said. “We are going to the station.”

The drive to the Cadillac police station took twelve minutes. The heater in Mike’s truck whistled through the dashboard vents, but the cab remained cold.

The lobby of the station smelled continue reading …