I have never once looked at a crime scene and felt anything but the need to bring someone to justice. Until now. The bodies are posed. Theatrical. Every wound deliberate, every detail chosen.
A message carved in flesh for every predator who ever harmed a child and thought they’d gotten away with it. My colleagues see a monster. I see monsters too.
I just can’t figure out who I mean anymore. Then I find him. All sharp wit and sharper cheekbones, with a smile that makes me forget I’m supposed to be suspicious.
He shouldn’t be anywhere near this case. He keeps ending up exactly where I am anyway. He should be in handcuffs.
He would be, if I weren’t the one letting him disappear into the dark every single time. I tell myself I need more evidence. I tell myself I’m playing a long game. I think I’m lying. I’m a good cop.
I have always been a good cop. I believe in the law. Not because it’s perfect, but because without it, we’re nothing.
Then he winked at me, and now I understand, for the first time, exactly why people fall.
