We Have a Suspect
Washington, D. C., March 2030
Dennis drove while Langley jotted down questions. Occasionally, he punched the dashboard. "I want to nail this son of a b***h. I mean nail him good."
"Easy, Langley. We'll get him, but we'll do it the right way."
With Langley providing the directions from the sheet of paper Dennis had given him, they arrived at the house about four. It was a small ranch with white clapboard siding and green shutters on the front windows. The porch post leaned to the left and the sidewalk was spider-webbed all the way to the front door.
Dennis parked by the curb and got out, unbuckling his holster as he did. Langley's holster was already unbuckled, and he was doing everything he could to keep his hand off the gun's grip, not trusting his emotions.
"Langl
