Carlson raised an eyebrow. “Well, he made someone mad, and it wasn’t us.” The man pointed to Winters’s face and torso. “Appears someone hated him. Looks as though whoever it was took their time beating him to a pulp before putting a bullet in his chest.”
David rubbed the back of this neck. “Get the crime scene team here and figure out who did this.” He spun and headed to find his partner.
“Here.” Brandon handed him a stack of photos.
Blue gloves on, he accepted the offering and flipped through them. His stomach churned. “Winters was a class A…” No, he’d made a vow to clean up his language. But right now, he wished he hadn’t. He exhaled. “This dude was sick.”
He shoved the offending pics back at Brandon. “Take ‘em. I’d rather not see those again. I need some air.” He snapped the plastic gloves from his hands and stomped out the front door.
Arms folded across his chest, David leaned against his department vehicle. He watched as his team wrapped up their duties in silence and the M.E. shoved the gurney in the back of the van. He’d say “what a waste” but was it really? He closed his eyes. What kind of man thought that about another human? Every life had potential, but at the moment, he couldn’t find it in Eddie’s. The guy took the word disgusting to a whole new level.
For now, David would be satisfied that another pedophile was off the streets for good. Later, once the bile in the back of his throat subsided, he’d reconsider—maybe.
Brandon appeared seemingly from nowhere. A crease marred the man’s forehead. “Let’s go get the paperwork done.”
He nodded and circled the car.
The events of the day had taken their toll on the team. The evidence found in the house had several officers including himself exiting the building for a bit of fresh air before returning to their duties.
Instead of forming a case against Eddie, he and Brandon now searched for the person who murdered their suspect.
Back at the station, David paced the bullpen.
Brandon pushed out a chair with his foot. “Sit. You’re making me edgy.”
He sat, then stood. “Sorry. I need to get out of here for a few minutes.”
“Whitman.”
He pivoted and caught his partner’s questioning gaze.
“What’s going on?” Brandon asked.
“Something’s not sitting right, and I can’t put my finger on it.”
“I’m listening.” Brandon leaned back in his office chair and clasped his fingers behind his head.
David ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t know. That’s what’s driving me nuts.” He stared at the wall behind his partner. “Look, I’m outta here for a few.”
He all but ran from the station. Flipping open the Velcro pocket in his pantleg, he grabbed his truck keys. He slowed and lifted his face to the sun. What was wrong with him? He’d never left his partner hanging before.
The heat penetrated his tactical pants and department polo shirt and warmed his cheeks.
He glanced at his truck. The thing would be baking from sitting there all day. He might as well cool it down before he got in and burned his hands on the steering wheel.
Pushing the remote starter, the engine revved and the world exploded.
Oxygen rushed from his lungs. His body flew through the air and blistering heat followed.
The world turned dark gray, and silence descended.
“David.”
A voice spoke from a deep tunnel.
“Come on partner, talk to me.”
His eyes fluttered open and he came eye to eye with Brandon.
