The second she did that, he began trying to be a dick as much as possible.
Someone didn’t take rejection well.
That was for sure.
So now, he’d punish her, and ruin her life.
God.
She hated cops.
Which was all kinds of ironic because she, herself, was one of them.
The irony wasn’t lost on her.
As for Tora, she hadn’t always had the dream of being a detective for a police precinct.
No, she had loftier dreams.
When she was younger, at the tender age of seventeen, she wanted to be an FBI agent, following in the footsteps of two men she truly admired.
That had been her goal.
Oh, and she’d fought hard to get it, too.
Until her dreams were crushed when she realized how goddamn difficult it was to get into the FBI.
It.
Was.
Almost.
Impossible.
You had to be super smart, recruited, or know someone to help get you in, and while she had the last part, it felt wrong to reach out just to use that leverage.
It seemed wrong to call them up out of the blue when it had been about fifteen years—even when she saw them in the media all the time.
So, she let that dream go, and instead was trying to forget about it.
Thus, why she was in this position.
Tora had become a cop inSalt Lake Cityand then worked the beat for a few years.
Then, she’d become a detective in Vice, working undercover to get her training in.
Finally, she’d interviewed and applied for the job inHolladayas a detective.
Oh, she thought she’d won the cop lottery, becoming a homicide detective, but over the last year, nothing good happened here.
By good, she meant exciting.
By good, she meant helpful to push her career along.
Oh, some lady had gotten hit by a car, and she’d investigated that.
Or there was the man who fell from the roof of a building, and by‘fell’, she meant committed suicide.
