In less than two months he’ll be off the force.
Right now, he’s a cop on the edge.
On the streets they know him as Hard-Boyled.
In the station house, oddball nutjob with a thing for pies.
He knows where the bodies are buried (somewhere in this field)
You never lose it. The acrid stench of blood.
But this is a Boyle you won’t prick (cont. p64)