My 6-year-old granddaughter phoned me in panic just after midnight. “Mommy says the baby is coming! Help!” I asked, “Where’s daddy?” She answered, “He k!cked mommy’s tummy and left.”…..

Harry looked up and saw Deputy Brock Timmons approaching, uniform wrinkled, badge reflecting the hospital lights. Harry knew his reputation, and in small towns reputation mattered more than paperwork. Lazy. Crooked. Too friendly with men who needed cops to look the other way. One of Trent Huxley’s drinking buddies.

“Mr. Kane,” Timmons said with a nod. “Heard there was some kind of domestic incident tonight.”

Harry became completely still.