moved to the closet running his hand among her lacy, satiny sleepwear while noting, about a third of the closet. I’m sorry man, it’s gonna hurt worse than I wanted it to. You’re in deeper than you should be. I’m sorry, but I promise, it’ll be better in the end. He turned to leave the bedroom, careful to make sure everything was exactly as it’d been when he walked in. On the dresser he spied another photo of the couple, Sam wrapped into the detectives arms, both of them laughing at something the camera didn’t pick up.
“You’ll thank me, man, she’ll only hurt you in the end. It’s what they all do,” he nodded speaking softly to the photo, “It’s not like she can help it, though, it’s just, it’s in the blood.”
Through the wall behind the headboard, in the next apartment over, a door slammed open, startling him. The sound of a woman and man giggling brought him back to the task at hand.
Returning to the living room he carefully sifted through the desk and quickly found what he was looking for. He tucked the address book into a zippered pocket in the jumpsuit then hastily left the apartment, even taking the time to re-lock the deadbolt.
6
Pete’s hand slid absently under the open case file, the movement catching the watchful eye of his ever vigilant orange striped tabby, Major. The feline’s head snapped out of the nearly empty chop suey carton, a curled end of a bean sprout hanging from his mouth. He wiggled his rump and pounced on the moving papers just a second after his owner brought his cell up to his ear.
“Baski,” he answered in monotone.
“Ming just called. You and Edwards need to get your asses down to the East end of Fiddler Woods.” Captain Zegler announced tiredly on the other end.
Not another one, “Jase is in Glen Falls, Cap, what’s up?”
“Looks like your boy hit another one.”
“You sure?” Pete closed the case file stuffing the folder under the pile of newspapers and circulars that covered the dining table before slinging his jacket on.
“Yeah, Ming’s pretty sure, except its uglier this time than it’s been before.”
With a sigh, he pat his buddy on the head, feeling his strong purr buzzing through his skull, then headed quickly out the door.
“I’m on my way.”
Even if he hadn’t been on the force for almost 12 years, and partnered with one of the most tenacious detective’s County had to offer, Pete still would have been drawn to the axis of activity, Ming Lee. She was the sun around which county forensics revolved, and no one was exempt from her gravitational pull.
Over on a park bench, surrounded by EMT’s, Paulson and Rumsfeld; a fifty-something balding jogger sat panting and looking infinitely worse for the wear.
“Hey, Ming.” Pete greeted the tiny woman with the majestic bearing.
“Baski.”
She motioned to a cordoned off area guarded by uniformed officers, “Body’s over there.” then turned her attention back to her notebook.
“In a sec,” he nodded, “who found her, Mr. health-and-fitness over there?”
“Yeah, not a pretty sight, I’m surprised he didn’t keel over himself,” she shook her head, her ruby colored lips bowing downward.
“You said it’s different this time?” He asked, knowing what a frown of that particular depth meant.
“I think your boy’s about to shoot down that proverbial slippery slope. So far, he’s been fairly well controlled, but this, this was …different,” she scowled.
Copycat different? How different? “You sure it’s the same guy?” he asked quietly.
She flipped back a page in the notebook, nodding distractedly, “Bound with duct tape, hands behind the body before posing, sodomized, no prints that we’ve been able to find yet,” she nodded, “everything points to him.”
Pete scrubbed his buzz cut frustratedly, “Son of a bitch.”
Off to the side, the jogger lurched off the bench to the trash can where he retched violently.
“Running man’s taking it pretty
“You’ll thank me, man, she’ll only hurt you in the end. It’s what they all do,” he nodded speaking softly to the photo, “It’s not like she can help it, though, it’s just, it’s in the blood.”
Through the wall behind the headboard, in the next apartment over, a door slammed open, startling him. The sound of a woman and man giggling brought him back to the task at hand.
Returning to the living room he carefully sifted through the desk and quickly found what he was looking for. He tucked the address book into a zippered pocket in the jumpsuit then hastily left the apartment, even taking the time to re-lock the deadbolt.
6
Pete’s hand slid absently under the open case file, the movement catching the watchful eye of his ever vigilant orange striped tabby, Major. The feline’s head snapped out of the nearly empty chop suey carton, a curled end of a bean sprout hanging from his mouth. He wiggled his rump and pounced on the moving papers just a second after his owner brought his cell up to his ear.
“Baski,” he answered in monotone.
“Ming just called. You and Edwards need to get your asses down to the East end of Fiddler Woods.” Captain Zegler announced tiredly on the other end.
Not another one, “Jase is in Glen Falls, Cap, what’s up?”
“Looks like your boy hit another one.”
“You sure?” Pete closed the case file stuffing the folder under the pile of newspapers and circulars that covered the dining table before slinging his jacket on.
“Yeah, Ming’s pretty sure, except its uglier this time than it’s been before.”
With a sigh, he pat his buddy on the head, feeling his strong purr buzzing through his skull, then headed quickly out the door.
“I’m on my way.”
Even if he hadn’t been on the force for almost 12 years, and partnered with one of the most tenacious detective’s County had to offer, Pete still would have been drawn to the axis of activity, Ming Lee. She was the sun around which county forensics revolved, and no one was exempt from her gravitational pull.
Over on a park bench, surrounded by EMT’s, Paulson and Rumsfeld; a fifty-something balding jogger sat panting and looking infinitely worse for the wear.
“Hey, Ming.” Pete greeted the tiny woman with the majestic bearing.
“Baski.”
She motioned to a cordoned off area guarded by uniformed officers, “Body’s over there.” then turned her attention back to her notebook.
“In a sec,” he nodded, “who found her, Mr. health-and-fitness over there?”
“Yeah, not a pretty sight, I’m surprised he didn’t keel over himself,” she shook her head, her ruby colored lips bowing downward.
“You said it’s different this time?” He asked, knowing what a frown of that particular depth meant.
“I think your boy’s about to shoot down that proverbial slippery slope. So far, he’s been fairly well controlled, but this, this was …different,” she scowled.
Copycat different? How different? “You sure it’s the same guy?” he asked quietly.
She flipped back a page in the notebook, nodding distractedly, “Bound with duct tape, hands behind the body before posing, sodomized, no prints that we’ve been able to find yet,” she nodded, “everything points to him.”
Pete scrubbed his buzz cut frustratedly, “Son of a bitch.”
Off to the side, the jogger lurched off the bench to the trash can where he retched violently.
“Running man’s taking it pretty
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