viewing tolerable. I know when I leave here I’ve got warm and sweet waitin’ for me when I walk through the door.”
“You do know if June caught you callin’ her sweet she’d castrate you.”
“It’s the only thing that keeps me from callin’ her my sweet June to her face,” Reed chuckled. “Are you gonna listen to me and take Ms. Romance Novelist out for a drink?”
Dallas stared back at his partner and grinned.
“Nope, I’m gonna take her on a ride-along.”
“Christ, I gotta teach you about the art of—”
“Detectives?” a uniformed officer called from the hallway.
Reed turned, and Dallas followed suit, heading toward the officer.
“Did you find something?” Reed asked.
“In the bathroom on the mirror,” he responded.
Dallas brushed past the officer and pushed open the door to the small bathroom sandwiched in between the two bedrooms. The house wasn’t more than twelve hundred square feet like many of the homes in the small neighborhood that were built after World War II. Dallas scanned the room and noted it was in disarray unlike the rest of the tidy house. Dallas looked at the mirror, but didn’t see anything at first glance.
“Move to the other side of the room and look back toward the mirror at an angle,” Officer Rodriguez instructed.
Dallas moved across the small space, then turned around and looked at the mirror. It was faint, but you could see a word on the mirror, as if it had been written when the mirror was steamed over.
“Does that say master?”
“That’s what I was thinking as well,” Rodriguez agreed.
Dallas motioned Reed in and moved out of the way so his partner could get a look. Reed moved his head back and forth to catch the light coming in from the window and then paused.
“Sonofabitch,” Reed mumbled. “What the hell does he mean by that?”
“Hell if I know, but we’ll figure it out,” Dallas vowed before he turned to the officer and ordered, “Tell Jenkins with the crime lab about this. He needs to dust the mirror for prints and to pull the drain for hair and blood. If that bastard washed his hands to get rid of evidence, I want it.”
When Rodriguez nodded and turned to leave, Dallas halted him. “Rodriguez, nice catch. If you ever wanna make a move from patrol to homicide, let me know. I’ll put in a good word for you after you’ve taken your exam.” Rodriguez gave Vaughn a nod in acknowledgment before he turned to find Jenkins.
Dallas felt a headache forming as he turned back to Reed. All he had wanted was one day off from the ugliness of his job, a day to enjoy being with his family. He’d gotten neither.
“We need to canvas the neighborhood and contact her family,” Dallas reminded Reed as he rubbed his neck with the flat of his hand, exhausted at the thought. “Christ, the family. Whose turn is it to break someone’s heart?”
“It’s mine,” Reed answered. “Go home, Vaughn, I’ll handle this one. This shit’ll be waiting for us on Monday either way.”
“Home? To do what, exactly, pace the floor while I work the case in my mind?”
“Have a drink, hell, have a bottle. But get some fuckin’ sleep for once. Dream about blonde hair and green eyes, for Christ’s sake. It’s not that hard: you lay down on a bed and close your eyes.”
Dallas sighed at his partner’s dramatics then grabbed him by the shoulder, giving him a shove. “Jesus, enough hen-pecking already. You’re like an old woman when you get like this.”
Reed shrugged at his outburst and then answered with a grin. “I learned from the best.”
Seven
Best friends are the people you turn to when your life is going down the toilet, when you need a shoulder to cry on, and who support you unconditionally. They don’t judge you, they hold your hair up when you’ve had too much to drink, and they always make a pitcher of margaritas when they show up at your house to listen to you bitch about men on a Saturday
“You do know if June caught you callin’ her sweet she’d castrate you.”
“It’s the only thing that keeps me from callin’ her my sweet June to her face,” Reed chuckled. “Are you gonna listen to me and take Ms. Romance Novelist out for a drink?”
Dallas stared back at his partner and grinned.
“Nope, I’m gonna take her on a ride-along.”
“Christ, I gotta teach you about the art of—”
“Detectives?” a uniformed officer called from the hallway.
Reed turned, and Dallas followed suit, heading toward the officer.
“Did you find something?” Reed asked.
“In the bathroom on the mirror,” he responded.
Dallas brushed past the officer and pushed open the door to the small bathroom sandwiched in between the two bedrooms. The house wasn’t more than twelve hundred square feet like many of the homes in the small neighborhood that were built after World War II. Dallas scanned the room and noted it was in disarray unlike the rest of the tidy house. Dallas looked at the mirror, but didn’t see anything at first glance.
“Move to the other side of the room and look back toward the mirror at an angle,” Officer Rodriguez instructed.
Dallas moved across the small space, then turned around and looked at the mirror. It was faint, but you could see a word on the mirror, as if it had been written when the mirror was steamed over.
“Does that say master?”
“That’s what I was thinking as well,” Rodriguez agreed.
Dallas motioned Reed in and moved out of the way so his partner could get a look. Reed moved his head back and forth to catch the light coming in from the window and then paused.
“Sonofabitch,” Reed mumbled. “What the hell does he mean by that?”
“Hell if I know, but we’ll figure it out,” Dallas vowed before he turned to the officer and ordered, “Tell Jenkins with the crime lab about this. He needs to dust the mirror for prints and to pull the drain for hair and blood. If that bastard washed his hands to get rid of evidence, I want it.”
When Rodriguez nodded and turned to leave, Dallas halted him. “Rodriguez, nice catch. If you ever wanna make a move from patrol to homicide, let me know. I’ll put in a good word for you after you’ve taken your exam.” Rodriguez gave Vaughn a nod in acknowledgment before he turned to find Jenkins.
Dallas felt a headache forming as he turned back to Reed. All he had wanted was one day off from the ugliness of his job, a day to enjoy being with his family. He’d gotten neither.
“We need to canvas the neighborhood and contact her family,” Dallas reminded Reed as he rubbed his neck with the flat of his hand, exhausted at the thought. “Christ, the family. Whose turn is it to break someone’s heart?”
“It’s mine,” Reed answered. “Go home, Vaughn, I’ll handle this one. This shit’ll be waiting for us on Monday either way.”
“Home? To do what, exactly, pace the floor while I work the case in my mind?”
“Have a drink, hell, have a bottle. But get some fuckin’ sleep for once. Dream about blonde hair and green eyes, for Christ’s sake. It’s not that hard: you lay down on a bed and close your eyes.”
Dallas sighed at his partner’s dramatics then grabbed him by the shoulder, giving him a shove. “Jesus, enough hen-pecking already. You’re like an old woman when you get like this.”
Reed shrugged at his outburst and then answered with a grin. “I learned from the best.”
Seven
Best friends are the people you turn to when your life is going down the toilet, when you need a shoulder to cry on, and who support you unconditionally. They don’t judge you, they hold your hair up when you’ve had too much to drink, and they always make a pitcher of margaritas when they show up at your house to listen to you bitch about men on a Saturday
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