could use some new inventory.
It was twilight when Zack called up to her apartment and asked if he could come in. Sadie swallowed her pride and stomped down the stairs to let him in, before stomping back up the stairs again.
“Are you okay, Sadie?” he asked. “You seem a bit down.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not okay. There’s been too much death and I’m tired of it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have left you to find your own way home.”
“I’m an adult woman, Zack. Mr. Bradshaw and I were perfectly fine getting a taxi home. Really, I’m okay.” But the fact that she felt like biting his head off hadn’t escaped her. That wasn’t normal.
“I thought you’d want to hear this,” Zack said. “The dead woman – well, girl really -- she was a college student. Her name was Sylvia Jones and she was one of your sorority sisters. And it was definitely murder.”
Sadie tried not to look devastated. This was really too much. Two weeks ago she’d found out a sorority sister was a murderer, and now one of her sisters had been murdered. She couldn’t understand how Zack could be so insensitive. Yet she also knew he had no way of knowing that a middle-aged woman still will be connected to the college-aged women that had joined the same sorority.
“I had a feeling we were dealing with murder,” Sadie said.
“I had no idea she was a sorority sister. I hate that a place that was a safe haven for me in college has turned into a nightmare place.” She sniffed and wiped her hand across her face.
“You can help me make this right," Zack said. "I'm not sure where the murder was committed, but it leads back to us and that sorority of yours. So we'll have a hand in the investigation. We'll find who killed your girl."
"She isn't exactly my girl," Sadie said. "She's my sorority sister. I've got sorority sisters all over the country who I've never met. We're connected, but not."
"There's the potential for connection?" Zack asked.
"Yes. We're a network. We look out for each other. We help where we can," Sadie said. "It's too late to help that girl. What was her name again?"
"Sylvia Jones," Zack said. "She had the highest GPA in her class."
"I don't recall ever hearing about her." Sadie dropped her head and leaned against his chest. She was just so tired.
"I'm so done with death and murder, murder and death. People I know are dying way too early and not of natural causes. I'm thinking I should go to Spain or Argentina on a buying trip. Get away for a bit."
Zack put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back, searching her face. She saw the worry in his eyes and felt guilty, but she couldn't put on a smile. She collapsed into her favorite chair and curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her legs and dropping her head to her knees.
"I just can't do this one, I just can't."
“Why can't I?” she thought. What's wrong with me?
She searched through her mind for a clue to her malaise. She'd been fine. It was a wonderful day, and then they'd discovered the dead woman. She'd still been fine. The cops had come and she'd been questioned, and she'd been fine. She'd walked with Mr. Bradshaw back to the parking area and called a taxi. And she'd been fine. They'd rode home in the taxi and she'd started thinking about Spain. And she hadn't been fine.
She'd only thought of Spain because she wanted to escape. And, although she hated to admit it, she'd been unhappy that Zack had left her to make her way home, which was also unlike her. She felt Zack's hands on her shoulders, gently kneading the knots out of her muscles.
"I forget, sometimes, that you aren't a cop," he said quietly.
“Not that it doesn't take a toll on us, too, but we are trained for it. And we have a psychologist to talk to when we need to. You've seen a lot of death in the past couple of months. I forget you don't have the same support that we do." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
The next morning Sadie was feeling
It was twilight when Zack called up to her apartment and asked if he could come in. Sadie swallowed her pride and stomped down the stairs to let him in, before stomping back up the stairs again.
“Are you okay, Sadie?” he asked. “You seem a bit down.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not okay. There’s been too much death and I’m tired of it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have left you to find your own way home.”
“I’m an adult woman, Zack. Mr. Bradshaw and I were perfectly fine getting a taxi home. Really, I’m okay.” But the fact that she felt like biting his head off hadn’t escaped her. That wasn’t normal.
“I thought you’d want to hear this,” Zack said. “The dead woman – well, girl really -- she was a college student. Her name was Sylvia Jones and she was one of your sorority sisters. And it was definitely murder.”
Sadie tried not to look devastated. This was really too much. Two weeks ago she’d found out a sorority sister was a murderer, and now one of her sisters had been murdered. She couldn’t understand how Zack could be so insensitive. Yet she also knew he had no way of knowing that a middle-aged woman still will be connected to the college-aged women that had joined the same sorority.
“I had a feeling we were dealing with murder,” Sadie said.
“I had no idea she was a sorority sister. I hate that a place that was a safe haven for me in college has turned into a nightmare place.” She sniffed and wiped her hand across her face.
“You can help me make this right," Zack said. "I'm not sure where the murder was committed, but it leads back to us and that sorority of yours. So we'll have a hand in the investigation. We'll find who killed your girl."
"She isn't exactly my girl," Sadie said. "She's my sorority sister. I've got sorority sisters all over the country who I've never met. We're connected, but not."
"There's the potential for connection?" Zack asked.
"Yes. We're a network. We look out for each other. We help where we can," Sadie said. "It's too late to help that girl. What was her name again?"
"Sylvia Jones," Zack said. "She had the highest GPA in her class."
"I don't recall ever hearing about her." Sadie dropped her head and leaned against his chest. She was just so tired.
"I'm so done with death and murder, murder and death. People I know are dying way too early and not of natural causes. I'm thinking I should go to Spain or Argentina on a buying trip. Get away for a bit."
Zack put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back, searching her face. She saw the worry in his eyes and felt guilty, but she couldn't put on a smile. She collapsed into her favorite chair and curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her legs and dropping her head to her knees.
"I just can't do this one, I just can't."
“Why can't I?” she thought. What's wrong with me?
She searched through her mind for a clue to her malaise. She'd been fine. It was a wonderful day, and then they'd discovered the dead woman. She'd still been fine. The cops had come and she'd been questioned, and she'd been fine. She'd walked with Mr. Bradshaw back to the parking area and called a taxi. And she'd been fine. They'd rode home in the taxi and she'd started thinking about Spain. And she hadn't been fine.
She'd only thought of Spain because she wanted to escape. And, although she hated to admit it, she'd been unhappy that Zack had left her to make her way home, which was also unlike her. She felt Zack's hands on her shoulders, gently kneading the knots out of her muscles.
"I forget, sometimes, that you aren't a cop," he said quietly.
“Not that it doesn't take a toll on us, too, but we are trained for it. And we have a psychologist to talk to when we need to. You've seen a lot of death in the past couple of months. I forget you don't have the same support that we do." He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
The next morning Sadie was feeling
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