LincolnMy ringing cell phone jars me awake. I dig it out of my pocket and see it’s Kurtis from the medical examiner’s office. It’s a little after six in the morning.“Just got the tox back on your latest and its positive for ketamine.”“Fuck,” I whisper into my quiet house.“That was my response too. We knew from the wounds that we’re dealing with the same killer and this pretty much confirms it.”“Thanks, Kurtis.”“Sorry, Linc.”I lean back and prop my feet on the coffee table. “So am I, but like you said, we both knew what we were dealing with. I’ll have a sit down with my supervisor today and go from there.”“Let me know if you need something from me.”“Will do.” I yawn before disconnecting.My feet hit the floor and I walk to the kitchen and the coffee maker. I add the prerequisite amounts of water and coffee grounds, add about half as much more of the coffee, flip the switch, and hit the shower. I’m still exhausted but take little time under the cool water. I shave, try to ignor

LincolnI park at the curb in front of our unit. “You might not like it but I need your schedule.”Shelby opens her eyes and her head snaps in my direction. “You’re right, I don’t like it,” she grumbles.“Look, I’m working to stop this guy from killing someone else and now I’m saddled with you. You’re a grown woman and you should be able to monitor yourself. But, your uncle sees differently. We’ll make it easy. Take my cell number and text me your whereabouts throughout the day. I couldn’t care less what you do as long as you stay out of trouble, but it’s that or I put handcuffs on you and attach one end to something in your bathroom.”Her laugh tells me she doesn’t believe a word of my threat. “Does that line work on the bad guys you deal with?”I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. “What the hell do you want from me, Shelby?” I say wearily. “Please. Meet me halfway.”Her expression changes and my anger dissipates. “Was that so hard? Be nice and I’m more likely to follow your

LincolnAnother day of nothing. I hit the street and talked to every hooker I came across. There’s fear in their eyes. The local news stations released the story at noon. I hoped it would get the women talking, but they tell me little. I even had a sit-down with a sergeant in vice. The asshole didn’t approve of laying off the hookers for a short time so they wouldn’t be afraid to talk to me. I don’t have sergeant stripes, so all I could do was pass it to my supervisor so he could deal with Sergeant Dickhead’s supervisor.I don’t have a working partner at the moment because of our two-year hiring freeze, so I head to the ME’s office to speak with Kurtis. He has a level head, keeps his mouth shut, and works a lot of high-profile homicides.He’s walking out of the autopsy room when I open the outer door. His bloody gloves go into the hazard bin after he removes his goggles. “Hey, Linc, let me scrub and I’ll meet you in the break room.”“Deal. I’m in need of your spidey senses.” This gain

LincolnWe decide on dinner first. I need to eat to keep up my stamina. We hit a small Italian place a few miles away. I drive my lifted truck. Shelby’s in a short pink skirt with a white girly blouse, a cowboy hat, and pink cowboy boots. The ever-present scarf is knotted around her neck. How she stands it in this heat is beyond me. I help her step up on the side-runner and admire the flash of pink panties as she adjusts herself in the seat.“I wore them for you,” she says.“Nice to know. Hope you don’t mind if I take them off as soon as we get home.”“A man of action, I like that.”“You’ll like it more later,” I come back with.Our sexual banter continues through dinner and the wood I’m sporting below the table would be embarrassing without the checkered tablecloth hiding it. Even nicer than the sexual overtones of the evening is not thinking about work. As a detective, it’s a rare luxury.The drive home is mostly quiet. I think we’re at our max for verbal foreplay. I turn into my dr

LincolnI put the MO of my killer into the UCR database. I know there might be look-alikes that will create even more work. At this point anything is worth a try, and sleep is highly overrated.Dan, an older cop set for retirement within the next six months, sticks his head in my office right before I bail from my chair to hit the street again. “Good morning, Detective Street. You have a minute?”Dan’s old school. He uses titles, so I give him the same back. “Sure, Officer Wilder, have a seat. I can spare a few minutes.” He sits down in front of me and steeples his fingers on my desk. “I’m light duty for another week and heard you could use some leg work. My supervisor okayed it as long as I can partner up. That is if you want me?”He’s the answer to my prayers. “I need you desperately. Let’s go talk to my sergeant about getting you some help.” He follows me to Detective Sergeant Sadoski’s door. I knock once and enter. “You got a minute, Sarg?” I ask.He glances up from his computer s