1
“You know my divorce is now final,” Charlotte said as Marcus tucked his revolver in the gun safe on the top shelf of their small closet, which was packed with clothes. Charlotte’s took up more than three quarters, so his meagre shirts were crammed in at one end.
He turned the dial of the safe and put his duty belt on the dresser, taking in Charlotte, who was in faded blue jeans and one of his old T-shirts, lingering in the doorway with a dishtowel over her shoulder. Her hair was hanging long and loose, and something about the way she was looking at him told him there was more.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” he said as he unbuttoned his uniform shirt and pulled it from his trousers before sitting on the queen-size bed that filled the master bedroom in their small older two-bedroom house, whe
