Gideon thought if the man wearing the county sheriff’s badge pointed that out one more time, he just might rip off the badge and use it to gag him. “Yes, sheriff. I realize it looks really bad,” he said, parroting the words back. Maybe saying exactly what the other man was saying would make the guy get the point. Gideon was a fucking cop. This looked bad—yeah, he got the point. “You say you were just coming out here to look around and your girlfriend knew he was here, but she didn’t tell you?” Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d gone through this three times already. Logically, he knew what the law enforcement officer was doing. Repetition was everything. There was no telling how many times a suspect had slipped up over the stupidest little detail. Those details got lost in the telling—hard to keep your story straight when you made it up and pulled it out of your ass. But Gideon was a cop and he knew how all of this went down. On top of that, he was tired and fed up with all of this bullshit.
What do You think about The Right Kind Of Trouble?
