“Whatcha think?” Buck asked again, his
overbite resting on his bottom lip.
“I think he’s dead.” Belkin glanced up, sliding
his eyes sardonically toward the man.
“Ya think,” Buck guffawed. “Shouldn’t you turn
him over or something?”
“Do you really want to see a face with no
eyes?” Annoyed, Don glanced toward Buck. “What
were you doing out here so early in the morning?”
Buck’s lips parted as he shook his head in
response to the first question–he looked quizzically
at the detective to answer the second, “Fishin’–
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish