Chapter Twenty-EightCape Bretton, South Carolina: Twenty years ago
Detective Donald Marshall was having a bad morning. His alarm had malfunctioned, so he was officially a half hour late for work which meant he had no time for breakfast or even coffee until he got to the station. It was either skip the food and java or the shower. He couldn't do without a quick wash, spraying the hot water that took forever to warm and, when it did, became so burning hot that he had to turn it down, anyway.
Stepping out of the bath, he went about his normal morning routine at lightning speed or as fast as his tired body could move. He'd just turned fifty, and he was looking forward to retirement. His friends in the Charleston and Beaufort P.Ds were jealous of him for what they considered the quiet life in
