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“Clark—”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Clark interrupts. “I didn’t mean to make you look bad. I just thought …”
“Thought what, officer?”
“Nothing.”
“Out with it, Clark. I won’t have my men keeping their thoughts from me, even if the Commander doesn’t like what they have to say.”
“Sir, the Commander has a daughter about the same age as all these other girls. Doesn’t he?”
“I believe you’re right. How do you—”
“Personnel files, sir.”
“Ah. And what about it?”
“Why isn’t he more worried about this? I thought he’d want to explore every possible option to get this killer off the streets. We have no other leads right now.”
Detective Sloan sighs.
“I don’t know, Clark. Maybe that’s exactly why he’s worried about wasting time. The more time that’s wasted, the more women we won’t be able to save.”
Clark hangs his head but nods.
“Very well, sir.”
Sloan watches as Clark collects the files into a single pile and lifts them off the table.
“Officer.”
“Yes, sir?” Clark says glancing up at the detective.
Sloan suddenly swats the files, scattering them across the table and floor. Clark blinks in shock, his mouth hanging open at the sight.
“Leave the files here. You can stay late to pick them up later, after your desk duty. Is that clear?”
It takes Clark a few seconds to realize what Sloan is saying before a small smile tugs at his lips.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me, officer. Just help us clean this mess up before anyone else gets hurt.”
