33
FORD
“He’s out?” Hallie asked.
Ford had already finished a beer before she arrived, and now he poured himself a shot of vodka.
“Yup. Drink?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know if you had groceries here, so I picked up Italian. You never did tell me your favourite food.”
On any other day, Ford’s mouth would have watered, but pasta was the last thing he felt like eating.
“Right now, my favourite food comes in liquid form.”
“What can I do to help?”
He downed the shot. “Pour me another drink?”
“Because a hangover will make everything better?”
“Can’t make it any worse. This is the shittiest part of police work. Knowing a man’s guilty but being unable to do a damn thing about it. Brand’s lawyer threatened us with a harassment suit if we keep poking around in his client’s business,
