“Yeah, yeah. Get outta my house, Haven.”
We both laughed as I grabbed my phone and keys and headed home to change. So much for a lazy Sunday off.
It had yet tosnow, but for early December, the air crackled with cold, especially near the water where the wind took flight, slashing icy blades across unprotected skin. Telmon, a normally quiet side street, was packed on both sides with black-and-whites, an ambulance, fire rescue, and several other vehicles I suspected belonged to authority of one kind or another. Someone must have used 9-1-1 to call it in. Citizens spilled from houses, gathering on front lawns and curbs to gawk and whisper. The press hadn’t yet arrived, but it was a matter of time. Those vultures had a nose for juicy stories.
I spotted Rue near the trailhead, chatting with a uniform who must have been giving her a rundown since he gestured toward the river more than once. The constable scrubbed a hand over his nape and shook his head, conveying a sense of disbelief.
Violence and atrocities like murder didn’t shock me anymore. In my short time with Ottawa’s homicide division, I’d learned that human beings were the cruelest species in the animal kingdom and the only ones who killed for sheer pleasure. It didn’t take much to tip someone over the edge. Brutality came in all shapes and sizes.
My partner, ten years my senior, showed no expression as she listened to the constable. Rue’s severe countenance was both a shield and part of her personality. I had gotten used to it, but some people found it off-putting. Paired with her height—she matched my six feet inch-for-inch—Rue was the definition of intimidating.
She had a quiet beauty. Her jet-black hair was always pulled into a tight, low ponytail. It hung to the middle of her back and flapped in the breeze across the nylon shell of her Ottawa Police parka. I’d zipped my matching jacket to my chin, wishing I’d grabbed a beanie. My ears ached already. If we were out here for any length of time, I was going to freeze.
More than a nugget of truth existed in the saying “It’s too cold to snow.” The heavy clouds that had blanketed the sky for days seemed unable to release their burden, clinging to the promised winter storm with frozen fingers.
Rue caught my eye and touched the constable’s arm, disengaging and meeting me on the road.
The officer retreated down the path to the river trail as I studied my partner’s unreadable face. “Are we sure it’s a homicide?” I asked.
“No question.”
“Have you been down there?”
“Not yet. I was waiting for you. Responding officers have it marked off. Crime scene investigators showed up five minutes ago. Forensics is here, and…” Rue trailed off, a subtle twitch appearing at the corner of her lips. Not a smile, god forbid, but about as close as I was going to get. Rue’s dark eyes glimmered.
“What?” A jolt of anticipation surged through me, and I knew.
Rue wet her lips and glanced over her shoulder. “The new guy was on call.”
Despite the bitter cold, a seed of warmth ignited inside my belly, and I flashed my attention to the trailhead as though I could see through the dense trees blocking the view of the river. “Oh yeah?”
Dominique Chevalier was the talk of the department, or rather, the talk of anyone who worked in homicide and utilized the various forensics teams on a regular basis. He’d especially caught my attention, and I may or may not have developed a slight obsession with the guy. Ottawa’s newly hired forensic pathologist was, in a word, striking.
During our first meeting a couple of weeks ago, I’d been unable to take my eyes off him, crippled by his good looks and curious about his quiet introspection while studying the scene of the crime. He spoke little to those around him, but I hadchalked it up to being a fresh face in a new city. Our brief rendezvous hadn’t given me enough time to puzzle him out, so I’d shamelessly asked around, eager for gossip. Unfortunately, I learned fewer details than I hoped.
I may or may not have openly commented on Domnique’s attractiveness, and Rue forgot nothing. She also had the worst habit of treating me like a child.
I returned my focus to my partner, who somehow managed to look smug, despite her firmly set jaw. A few wispy strands of black hair danced across her face. It was her finely plucked brows, sharp and angular, that gave her away. They spoke volumes without Rue ever saying a thing.
“You’re like a flustered teenager.”
“I’m not flustered.”
“Think you can manage to concentrate and not spend the entire time ogling the guy? We have a job to do.”
“I can multitask.”
Rue studied me for a beat, her non-expression somehow managing to convey doubt. Without another word, she plucked two pairs of nitrile gloves from her pocket and handed me a set. “Let’s see what we’ve got. If you can control your libido, I’ll let you chat with the handsome doctor. Get his opinion, not his phone number.”
“Yeah. I’d be so lucky. He’s probably straight. The gorgeous ones always are.”
I’d met Dominique once. We’d exchanged less than ten words. It wasn’t enough time for a proper assessment, and I wasn’t about to assume a person’s orientation. The last thing I wanted to do was flirt with someone who might take offense. The department was ripe with homophobes, and I’d suffered my fair share of their indignation over the years. The wholetimes are changingmantra was bullshit. People were as nasty as ever, especially cops or those cop adjacent.
I followed Rue to the trail, ignoring the slight upward tick of my heart that had nothing to do with viewing a dead body and everything to do with the new forensic pathologist.
We came upon the scene about thirty yards northwest of where the trail exited from Telmon Street. CSIs had strung yellow crime tape in a wide, rough circle around the body. Several evidence markers littered the ground, more still being added. A dropped cellphone. A pair of earbuds. Tread marks from shoes or boots. Skid marks possibly made by a heel digging into the path. It told a story we had yet to decipher.
Anything and everything was tagged and photographed, collected if possible or necessary. A member of the investigative team circled the area, snapping pictures from every angle. A second photographer, assigned to the victim, was positioned in a way that partially blocked my view.
