Harry Gottlieb had never fired his weapon on the job; he’d never even drawn it off the range. That was fine. He could go to his grave without having gotten into a showdown. He’d known a few cowboys who’d needed to be the first through the door. They could keep it. Thankfully, as a transit cop, he rarely got into those situations. Only a few more years to go before he could put in for his pension and retire on half-pay. He’d go somewhere tropical where the weather was rarely
bad and the temperature never dropped below seventy.
On occasion, he would allow himself to indulge this fantasy, and then he would remember the outstanding debts he still had, including alimony. His dream of retiring with ease to the tropics would unravel. So, he forbade himself from thinking about it. Some might hav
