TenTwo nights later, a block off of Duncan's historic Town Clock Square, a bone-weary Peter Chandler climbed from his unmarked car outside of a Stopwatch Hamburger joint. Though he knew the answer, manners forced him to lean back in and ask his partner if he cared for anything.
“Don't suppose I could talk you into a bottle of water?”
“Outside of a drought,” Chandler growled. “I don't suppose you could either.” Even tired, the senior detective slid effortlessly into a Jesus speech. “America has the cleanest drinking water in the world, Horatio. Why, in the name of all you millennials call healthy, anyone buys bottled water, is beyond me.” Shane nodded like a bobble-head but wasn't listening. Chandler sighed. “I'm talking about food.”
“Nothing in there my body recognizes as food.” Shane p
