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Detective Adelaide Harris missed the chill of Montana’s mountain air. There was something invigorating about the biting cold. Most people would bury themselves deeper into the comfort of their warm bed, but not her. She lived for the way it sharpened her senses and lit up her nerve endings.

Savannah’s mornings were never cold enough. Even now, in the middle of December, the nightly temperatures rarely dipped below forty. Every morning, the soft heat of the day coaxed her back to sleep. Coffee overheated her body, so she took cold showers to remind her of those longed-for chilly mornings back home.

But today was different.

This morning, she had been awake the moment her feet hit the living room carpet. The only sound she heard was Chief Clementine’s voice echoing in her head. Harris had fallen asleep on the couch again, and the peal of her phone’s ringtone woke her from an uneasy rest. The sun had risen hours ago, and as she fumbled for her cell, she wondered how she could’ve overslept. When she finally raised the device to her ear, Clementine sounded surprised, like she had almost gotten away with not having to pass along the news.

Harris had always respected Chief Clementine’s strength and dedication, her innate ability not to mince words. So when Harris heard the hesitation in the other woman’s voice, something shifted inside her. Her body prepared for the worst, and when it came, she absorbed the shock to her system.

“I need you to come in.” Clementine weighed her words. “Something’s happened.”

That’s all the Chief had told her. Something’s happened. But Harris knew what it was, even if she couldn’t put it into words. The dread pooling in her stomach sent an icy chill up her spine. It worked its way into the base of her skull, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end.

Still, she took the time to shower. Get dressed. Eat breakfast. She didn’t dawdle, but she didn’t rush. It wouldn’t have changed the outcome of the situation, and she’d need her strength for the day.

Clementine had brought her into the station to break the news. Harris didn’t bother asking questions or denying the validity of the Chief’s claim. She had walked into Clementine’s office with a stone mask on her face, and she had refused to let it slip in front of her superior officer.

Or anyone else, for that matter.

Harris had only one desire—to see the body. Clementine had protested. Harris had insisted. She would not back down, and after a full minute’s deliberation, the Chief relented. Clementine drove the detective to the scene herself, which was all the better for Harris. The detective may have been able to control her face, but she couldn’t control the shaking of her hands.

The twenty-minute ride to a warehouse just outside the city proper was a silent one. Harris did not feel motivated to fill the silence, and she assumed Clementine didn’t either. Any words at this point would have been empty. Proof, evidence, and tangible details were the only elements that mattered.

Most of the other officers still wore their jackets despite the sun being at its zenith, but Harris had left hers in the car. The heat of the day didn’t register against her skin, nor did the crunch of gravel under her boots. Even the patrol cars’ flashing lights, competing with the sun’s rays, were distant. All she saw was the loading dock entrance, the caution tape, and the crumpled body laying just beyond.

Clementine put out her arm to stop Harris’ approach. The Chief waited until Harris looked her in the eye. “I’m giving you five minutes to do what you need to do. Scream, cry, punch a wall, whatever. After that, I need you back here with me. All pistons firing. We’re going to find who did this.”

Harris nodded, but when Clementine didn’t drop her arm, Harris felt obligated to meet her eyes. “I got it. Five minutes.”

The Chief nodded, then cleared everyone out. A few officers tried to give their condolences, but she ignored them. She didn’t want the pity or the sorrow or the sympathy. She wasn’t the only one suffering today, even if she was the only one who had gotten an escort from the Chief of Police. They all thought they knew what she was feeling, but they didn’t have a clue.

Harris put one foot in front of the other until the toe of her boot hit the first step of the stairs leading to the dock. She took each step with deliberate care, feeling the stretch of her muscles before they contracted and lifted her upward. When she made the platform, she forced herself forward.

Someone had rolled up the bay door and draped caution tape across the entrance. Harris ducked under it, forcing her eyes to the body in the center of the room. There was no point in denying it was him. That would only postpone the inevitable, and they couldn’t afford to lose that kind of time.

Detective David Klein had been shot once in the head and once in the heart. The wounds were clean. In and out. No suffering. One minute he was alive, and the next he was not. He probably hadn’t even seen it coming.

It was a minor comfort, but even through the fog of her pain, Harris recognized it for what it was—a mercy. Every police officer, from the beat cops to the Chief of Police herself, had thought about what it would be like. Whether you’d suffer for days before succumbing to your wounds or feel a sharp pinch before it was lights out and you never opened your eyes again.

One arm was trapped under his twisted body. She wanted to push him onto his back, to straighten him out and maybe fold his hands across his stomach. But she resisted the urge. The crime scene had to stay intact. They couldn’t afford to lose a single piece of evidence.

Harris waited for tears that never came. She wished they would, to blur the scene in front of her. Inst

ead, she saw David’s dead body in high definition. Every drop of blood, every scratch on his skin, every contorted muscle of his body was in sharp relief.

There was no doubt in her mind that she’d see him every time she closed her eyes for the rest of her life.

Footsteps echoed around the room. Harris turned to see Clementine approaching. The Chief was alone. Were the five minutes up already? She knew she wouldn’t cry with the other officers so close, but Harris hadn’t had time to figure out what she’d wanted to do first—scream or punch something.

“This is my fault.” The words were out of Harris’ mouth before she could stop them. “I did this.”

“You didn’t.” Clementine’s voice wasn’t gentle. The sharp look in her eye quieted any of Harris’ protests. “You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t kill him.”

“I should’ve been here.”

“If you had, then I might’ve had two dead detectives on my hands instead of just one.”

Harris looked down at David. She heard Clementine’s words, even registered they were true, but the guilt that ate away at her stomach lining didn’t recede. If anything, it doubled its efforts to consume her from the inside out.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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