“I said as I answered my cell after my shower. Damn, I didn’t know if I was getting old or it was from getting hit with the ball, but I felt like shit. I grabbed some pills from my medicine cabinet and a glass of water, downing them while I waited for him to respond. “I wanted to tell you that I’m getting married,” Ted muttered on the phone, almost incoherently. “Quit fucking with me, Ted. I’ve got a headache and a bad bruise on my collarbone,” I barked. “Did someone resist arrest?” ...he asked anxiously. Which was a normal question to ask since I was one of Boston’s finest, but I didn’t really arrest people like I used to; I was a detective now, working cold cases. My big brother still worried about me all the time since we only had each other, but I hardly came into contact with any killers—mostly just dusty files. “Not today, but I was playing baseball for the MDA against the fire department, and I caught a line drive to the neck area.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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