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.