One of the distant figures went limp, mid-stride, and fell hard to the ground. He didn’t look up from the scope. “What’s my count?”
Someone whistled. “Two more and you’re tied with Hank.”
He chambered another round. “Who the fuck is Hank?”
“Old deputy Mayor. Lost him on a run two years ago. Good guy, always—”
Another figure spun in place, dropped to lie motionless. “Twenty-three”
“Anyway, Hank: he was always making sure the kids had sweets. You know, candy, stuff the other guys wouldn’t bother with.”
“Kids? What kids?”
A long silence followed.