From the front seat of his beat-up Chevy truck, Dirk Bennett stared at his girl’s third-story apartment. He watched the shadowy figures of two people come together and stay that way.
A minute passed, then two. Then the apartment lights went out.
Dirk’s fingers trembled, and his heart ricocheted against the walls of his chest. He glanced at the revolver on the seat beside him and shuddered. What was wrong with him? He was a nice guy from a nice family. People like him didn’t carry guns, didn’t lose sleep at night hating