At the bar and grill in Ellison Bay, he was contemplating the specials scrawled on the blackboard when Rowe texted him saying that Andrew’s story about the stamp collector checked out. Just as Cubiak was about to place his lunch order, another message came through. Com hurri. The muddled text was...
His thick hair curled from the mist. His lungs burned. His breath stank of beer and cigarettes. At the road, he stopped and swiped his glasses on his baggy sweatshirt. Late June, and the damp, cold spring had yet to give way to summer. Three months earlier, Dave Cubiak had left Chicago, steering ...
Dave Cubiak skimmed the headline as he ran the water over the dirty dishes piled in the sink. The Door County sheriff was normally neat about his surroundings, but with one of his deputies out sick that week he’d been getting home barely in time to fix supper and rinse up afterward. Cubiak glance...