Three
Terin––––––––
“IT’S BEEN FIVE weeks now since Slammer’s homicide,” said Daniel Walters, the head of our unit. It was early Monday morning and he looked like he’d been up for two days. The lines on his face were deep and made him look much older than forty. “And we still don’t have a damn shooter. We need to start pressing the Gold Vipers for more information.”
“You think they really know who killed him?” I asked, but then immediately felt like an i***t when all eight eyes turned toward me.
Walters grunted. “Of course they know. Hell, even we know it was the Devil’s Rangers.”
“Has there been any recent retaliation at all?” I asked. “By the Gold Vipers?”
“Not yet, but there will be,” said Jeffrey Bronson, another investigator on the task force. He was stuffing his bloated, puffy
