Cassidy had seen more gruesome, vicious and bloody crime scenes in her seven years on the force, most of them during the last two, after having made detective. This one however, this one had her out in the late August Texas heat with her stomach threatening to remind her in no uncertain terms exactly what she’d had this morning for breakfast. The bacon and eggs had tasted great going down… she wasn’t so sure she wanted to know what it would taste like coming the other direction.
She paced back and forth on the porch, the fence that surrounded the half acre back yard blocking her view of the news vans and reporters, and thankfully their view of her as well. A thin line of sweat trailed down her back, reminding her of the holster that she rarely remembered was there. These were the days she wished she could have just left the damn thing in the car, the leather a heavy weight, her shirt soaked between it and her skin, chaffing in the summer heat. The SIG. 45 at her side reminded her unnecessarily that there were four bodies inside the family home behind her who had probably all wished for something as uncomplicated and quick as a gun before they had finally died.
The man who stepped out onto the porch nearby was perhaps a decade older than his partner, but he carried the extra years well. His suit hung from his broad shoulders just as well as his blues had when he first joined the force. His dark blonde hair matched his faded blue eyes, disheveled from running his fingers through it, a habit he’d had for as long as Cassidy had known him.
