Brenda Chiatovich:
Now you know one reason my daughter’s picture is here. But wait, there is more.
Tiffany Chiatovich Melendez:
So, did you guess? My Mom and my Grand Pop wanted the perfect name for the bad girl in this story. So they picked one of my nick-names, Peaches.
Oh, yes. I have other nick-names, but one will do for now.
DeVry put the plastic bag on Collars desk, explaining what it was. Collars nodded. “Soon as I can,” he said in dismissal. DeVry left, closing the door gently behind him.
Collars stared at the bag without touching it.
If what DeVry said was true then what was in that plastic bag could put Morgan one step closer to the Chief’s job and one step closer to selling out the police station to the highest bidder. On the other hand, if the plastic bag were fraudulent, the police department, and the city, would be safer in the future.
There were times when Collars wished right and wrong were easier to keep track of. The good of the many. The good of the few. For some people it was a clear-cut choice. For others, there were no clear choices.
A choice between something bad in the present, and something bad in the future.
Of course if Morgan were ousted out of the force under serious enough shadow he wouldn’t be able to get back in even if evidence arose some time in the future to clear the Davenport girl.
Collars sighed heavily and picked up the bag.
Time to make a decision, time to decide what the right thing was to do and then to do it.
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