Maggie’s once toned arms now shook under duress. Eight years of retirement had turned them soft. Between gasps, she stammered out, “It...was...you...that...girl.”
Finally, pinned into submission, he pleaded, “Maggie, please, you know me. We’ve been married three years now.”
“I’ve always known you. I just needed to get closer. You really think I was a stewardess?” The hand not pointing the gun flashed her expired badge.
A detective never stops hunting.