Mrs. Ethyl fucking Goodman isn’t a popular figure around headquarters. I could talk with Daddy; he’d know how to handle it. Or my friend, Sergeant...Louise Finch; it would take her one phone call.I wouldn’t bother Bulldog Bannerman — that would be like taking a bazooka to ... an arm wrestling match. There’s probably a better analogy out there than that.Riley was eyeing me solemnly as I read the letter. Yes, it was serious. Yes, her father had been officially put on notice by the fucking HR. "It's not that something's wrong. But there is a something that we need to talk about." In response to his wife's puzzled look, Thompson gestured to an envelope on the table, and asked Michelle to have a look. She picked it up.The envelope was from GTA Laboratories, she read. Addressed to her husband. It was still sealed. She thought she understood, and a chill went through her."Bernie, I know you used to fool around a lot. I've come to terms with that, and even forgiven you for it. But is this. More

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