AllFreeNovel
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Bystanders on the left side of the scene are already pushing against the ropes and one of them has gone so far as to duck underneath with his cell phone in hand. Snapping off pictures or video of the body like someone hadn’t lost their life brutally.
“Move, I can’t see!” one of the bystanders calls out.
My already highly strung patience snaps as I turn on Jerry and Clint. Furious, fuming. To the point where I’m surprised smoke doesn’t start to curl from my ears and nostrils. “Maybe instead of coming up with idiotic one-liners, you can secure the fucking crime scene like you should. Anyone can wander in here.”
They treat this gig like it’s a joke. Their attention gets so entirely focused on themselves and feeding their egos, feeling like big men in charge of their tiny crumb of the world, that they let bystanders get close. Too close. I flash my teeth at the guy with the camera and he backs up a step, running into the side of the building and dropping his phone close to the pooling blood.
Too damn close.
Mucking up evidence, when finding the tiniest shred of DNA might make all the difference.
Jerry scoffs and the edges of his mustache bristle. “These people see death every day,” he reasons. “It’s nothing new for them. The scene is secure, Layla. Let them have a little fun. Not like they’re getting past me.”
My hands clench into fists at my side.
“Hey, L! Over here.”
Devan Bishop’s voice cuts through the haze in my head and I turn toward him. He knows exactly where I’m coming from and why Jerry bothers me and why an unsecured crime scene has me seeing red. The same kind of thing happened with my father’s murder, exceptIwas the one who pushed past the tape and compromised the scene.
Devan called for me just in time, too, before I can further get into it with the ass-fuck twins. I’ve got to let Jerry’s shit go and focus on what’s actually important.
My gaze flicks from the sheet-covered victim to the tall, quiet man standing on the opposite side of the scene that Jerry and Clint secured.
“We were here first, Detective McGee. Which means we don’t need you playing security guard,” my partner Devan tells Jerry. “Get back in your car and scram if you’re not going to be helpful. Captain Ashcroft gave the case to us.”
No one messes with Devan. His height means he’s taken much more seriously than I am. I barely top five foot three.
Bright blotches of red color Jerry’s cheeks at the comment. “You need me here.”
I swallow over my smile to try and keep my expression neutral. “No, actually we don't.”
“I’m going to try and get it anyway,” Jerry blusters. Pissed off and mustache twitching like a fidget spinner. “It’s ridiculous how you two think you can waltz right in and take over any high-profile cases that come through the precinct.”
I straighten my shoulders, heading to Devan’s side. We both ignore Jerry. Soon enough his voice fades into the rest of the background noise.
“What do you think?” I ask Devan. “First impressions?”
Devan’s got the figure of a backstreet fighter, all length and wiry strength. He keeps his black curly hair shaved short and tight to the scalp. His chocolate-brown eyes simmer in barely contained irritation which disappears even as I watch. “Typical shit, L.” His dark skin colors with frustration. “It’s nothing good. My first impression is senseless violence.”
He’s the only one I let get away with any kind of nickname. And only Devan because he’d taken a bullet for me during a case too many years ago to count.
My stomach churns.
“Guy manning the register said she came in looking flighty, flaky. Scared. She fiddled around, asked to use the bathroom, changed her mind and bolted,” Devan continues. “She went out, he heard arguing. And finally boom.” He mimes someone pulling the trigger of a gun. “Right here on the street, clean through the head. Crowd claims they didn’t see anything.”
Poor thing.
I search around for one of the crime scene techs and grab a pair of gloves from them, peeling the material over slender fingers. Pulling back the sheet is always a crap shoot because you never know what you’re going to find on a vic even when you know the specs.
This one has her eyes open and her features frozen in a mask of pleading terror. The knowledge of her impending death. The hole is straight between the eyes and out the other side, with pieces of skull and brain matter coloring the sidewalk like chalk.
I move down to the jacket, pulling apart fabric to check the pockets. Then the ground around the body.
“There’s no lighter,” Devan tells me gently. “I already checked.”
I nod, shrugging. “This is also one too many cases on our plate. I don’t suppose we’re in a position to push it off on someone else, after what happened with Jerry?”
The knot inside me is still there, and when I tune in to the reactions of my body, my heart is skipping every other beat.
