Chapter 99

BOOK FIVE: UNDER PRESSURE

Parker Maloney tilted his head back and glared at the cobalt sky, so bright, it seared his retinas. Not a cloud in sight.

Leaves on the maples and oaks lining the private suburban street were changing to red and orange, marking a beautiful transition. Some already littered the road and sidewalks, despite the Indian Summer that blasted their small postage stamp of a town. The early morning fog that often plagued their little pocket between the Klamath Mountains and the Pacific had dissipated by afternoon, leaving nothing but the scent of brine for its trouble. A morning dove cooed and crickets chirped and a soft breeze stirred the grass.

This day was turning to shit. Literally.

"Her mutt poo-pooed in my yard, Parker. Do something."

Case in point. Literal shit.