Pettiman heard gunshots through the alley late, maybe even early.
As soon as the first gulp of morning coffee hit his gut, he kissed Cheryl on the back of the head and walked out the back door to Leary’s.
Forgot Leary locked his back fence, hopped it.
Kind of a good sign.
Door was cracked open.
Not a good sign.
He never carried, didn’t have a pistol anyway, wasn’t gonna bring his 12 gauge anywhere just out of worry. He’d need a real reason.
He leaned into the open door gently.
Should he yell for Leary?
If someone shot him last night, or early, they weren’t still here.
Leary walked out into the hallway from the bathroom in boxers, holding a boxing magazine.
“You’re still alive.”
Leary jumped back, dropped the boxing magazine.
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