He needed something-anything-to impress the higher-ups. At the rate Brian’s career was going, he’d be stagnating in uniform until retirement. And when it did, the local police weren’t left in charge for long. This is the first interesting lead I’ve got on, well, anything in ages. Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself? Sure what else would we be doing this evening? At least a stakeout is more exciting than breaking up a fight at MacCarthy’s pub. If his new partner weren’t a decent bloke and a fine cop, he’d have resented him.Ĭome on, Seán. Seán was film-star handsome with a deep Dublin baritone that made the women of Ballybeg swoon-a far cry from Brian’s sing-song Donegal lilt and sticky-out ears. The police sergeant grumbled and tugged his hat lower, presumably to shield his ears from the harsh wind. I overheard Sharon discussing it with Naomi Bekele in the pub. The MacCarthys are definitely up to their old tricks.
Trust you to pick the first cold night in September to go on a flaming stakeout.īrian lowered his binoculars and grinned through the dark at his partner and superior officer. Because if you’re not, we’re trespassing on private property. Are you sure about this? His breath floated through the damp night air in smokelike wisps. Sergeant Seán Mackey shifted on the grass beside him, the sudden snap of a twig serving as a timely reminder to keep the volume down. Wrinkling his nose, he hunched down behind a bush and squinted through his police-issue night-vision binoculars. There were many places Garda Brian Glenn would rather spend his Saturday night.
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