Excerpt: Blessed Are The Sinful

Macie parked behind the last cruiser at the crime scene, pushed down the visor displaying her parking authorization, slid the ID chain over her neck and sprinted toward St. Simeone’s. So, there he was. Detective Bridger Daniels. An imposing figure pacing along the granite step while crime scene techs continued their photo shoot two landings above. He stopped and a drew a bead on the curious insomniacs growing in number in the park across from the church. He had the keen sight and sense to pinpoint the needle in a haystack. In a suit at 3:30 a.m.; probably clean-shaven. Boots would be spit-shined. The man should be shot just for the hell of it, Macie thought. He paid more for a suit than her monthly rent and grocery bills combined. Underneath the tailored jacket, a monogrammed, leather shoulder holster cradled his vintage Singer Colt .45. Both were gifts from his wife when he joined the Texas Rangers. The rig outlasted his tenure with the agency and the marriage.

She couldn’t imagine being married to such an aggressively confident man. Forty-eight out of one hundred sixty eight hours in a week was more than enough.