The branches stung my face as

Of his voice on the phone. I'm sorry, he mouthed.Baxter mimicked him. I'm sorry I'm such a hick cop screw-up, he taunted, lowering the gun from my head. He barked a laugh. Dick head. I didn't know if he was talking to Joe or me. How did you-- How did I know where he lived? He took a long swig from apartamente ieftine bucuresti a bottle of Bud. These guys are such amateurs. He burped and sneered at me. It was simple. Once I reached your apartamente noi property, I realized you'd run away to hide. There were no cars in the yard, for Crikey's sake. It had to be a setup. I watched for a while, figured out the routine, and then I took a ride in the trunk of his ancient police car at the end of his shift. Simple lock. Not even a challenge. Baxter leered in my face and shoved me, knocking my head against the sharp edge of a kitchen cabinet door. The room swam. He grabbed my arm and pushed me into a sagging armchair. So now it's your turn. His face darkened. This sonofabitch wouldn't tell me inchirieri apartamente 2 camere bucuresti squat after a nighttime of fun and games. Refused to call you, until I told him what I'd do to your entire family if he didn't get you over here. He sat on the edge of the couch with the gun loosely held in his hand, and leaned over and cuffed the side of Joe's head. Joe's mouth tightened. His eyes closed in pain. The gash on his temple opened, causing fresh blood to rise to the surface and drip down his face. What do you want, Baxter? I knew the chirie bucuresti answer, but hoped to divert him from Joe. What do I want? He stood, staggered to the refrigerator, and pulled out another bottle of beer, cracking it open on the edge of the countertop. After downing half the bottle, he belched and leaned close to me, his face inches from mine. I want apartamente de inchiriat bucuresti what's mine, LeGarde. I want apartamentedeinchiriatinbucuresti.com my kid, and I want a inchiriere apartament bucuresti little revenge--if that's not too distasteful apartamente de inchiriat bucuresti a concept for you to swallow. His voice rose in pitch and volume. His red hair no longer stuck out in a messy bush around his face, but was inchiriere apartament bucuresti closely cropped against his skull, effecting a very distinct change in his appearance. His small gray eyes bulged wildly. He exhaled putrid, beer-drenched breath in my face. I tried not to breathe it in. I want Sadie, LeGarde. And you're gonna tell me where she is, or your friend here is done for. Joe shook his head, staring at me with determination. His eyes said, No! She's days away from here, Baxter. Well-protected and living with a family none of us know. I hoped he'd believe the lie. Baxter approached me, swigging down more beer. You expect me to believe that crapola? I counted three empty bottles on the counter and a fourth in his hand. His voice had begun to thicken, and he wobbled when he stood up. I sat still, apartamente de inchiriat bucuresti watching him get drunk. He pushed the gun against my chest. Suddenly, as if in afterthought, he brought apartamente de inchiriat the gun up to his face, squinted down the short barrel, and flipped open chirie bucuresti the chamber to check the bullets. Smiling wickedly, he walked back to Joe and slammed the butt of the gun against his temple, knocking him over sideways on the couch. Joe's eyes fluttered into his head, and he promptly passed out. You forget I'm a cop. He jammed the gun in my chest. I know she's still