࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔

It was a normal July day in Santa Monica. The morning fog had just begun to lift and moisture still hung heavy in the air. You sat in the passenger seat of the department-issued green Ford Taurus. The window was down and you could smell the mixture of dew and cigarettes in the air. You were parked on the side of the street, outside a small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that your partner claimed had the best mocha in the city. Sahabi walked out of the door holding two cups of coffee. She handed one to you through the open window and you murmured your thanks. As she popped open the driver’s side, you took a sip. You let out a noise of approval. It definitely was one of the better coffees you’d tried recently.

“Told you.” Sahabi grinned, turning over the ignition. The car rumbled to life under your feet. 

“It’s not bad.” you allowed. Sahabi leaned back in her seat and took a sip of her coffee. She let out a sigh of contentment and looked out the side of her window. The place where she parked overlooked the pier. Seagulls flapped around the posts, diving out of the thin fog and screeching at each other to stake their claim on the perfect landing spot. One pecked at half of a donut lying in the sand. It only got to tear a few chunks from the pastry before a larger bird chased it away. “Do you think that’s healthy? Like can seagulls eat donuts?” 

“How would I know?” Sahabi shrugged, rolling up your window. “I’m a detective, not an ornithologist. You’re the one who watches nature documentaries for fun."

“They calm me down,” You defended.

“Oh, yea, nothing more soothing than watching a deer getting ripped apart.”

“David Attenborough just has a talent of making everything sound peaceful.” Your phone began to ring. You shifted in your seat so you could reach into your pocket and pull it out. You clicked it open and listened to the dispatcher. “Alright, thank you.” You hung up and turned to your partner. “Missing person report.” You mumbled, typing the address into the GPS. Sahabi sighed. 

“‘Nother day in paradise. Tourists need help finding grandpa.” You scoffed at her words. It was harsh, but true. That’s what most of your days consisted of. Your precinct never really got gang or drug calls, and most of the dead bodies that were reported were from natural causes or stupid accidents influenced by alcohol. You really didn’t complain, though. It could be worse. A lot worse. You heard stories about what other divisions had to work on and it made you shudder. You’d seen your fair share of murder scenes before you became a detective, but nothing straight-up vile like the major crimes task force described. You never stumbled into a massacre. Once you got promoted to Detective I, the amount of genuine danger you encountered significantly declined. The promotion happened at the beginning of the year, and you were still learning a lot, but your supervisors and Sahabi had noted that you seemed suited for the position. You didn’t miss the adrenaline of being on the streets. 

You pulled up to the Promenade five minutes later. It was only nine in the morning, but there were already people milling about the mall, enjoying the outdoors before it got too unbearably hot. It took a moment of scanning, but you eventually found the uniform that was talking to a woman sitting on the edge of a fountain. You walked behind Sahabi, as you usually did, letting her take the lead. She approached the woman with a kind smile. One that you knew was fake. 

“Morning, ma’am,” she said smoothly, extending her hand. “My name is Detective Sahabi, this is my partner. I understand you’re looking for someone?” The woman looked up at the two of you with unfocused eyes, fingers absentmindedly rolling the pearls of her necklace. She was wearing a bright pink jumpsuit and her skin was the color of a poorly-baked rotisserie chicken. Too much self-tanner. She jumped up off the fountain, but didn’t shake Sahabi’s hand. 

“Thank god you’re here!” She yelped, clutching her hand to her chest. “Huxley is gone!” You pulled your notepad out of the pocket of your dress pants. You flipped it open and clicked your pen.

“When was the last time you saw Huxley?” You asked, diligently writing down the time and place. “Do you have a description?” The woman nodded gravely.

“He’s white. He’s wearing a blue Louis Vuitton puffer jacket and black booties. He just got his haircut the other day, too.” She closed her eyes as she imagined the description.

“Alright,” You mumbled. “Height and weight? And how old is he?” 

“About a foot tall and seven pounds. He’s turning nine next week.” Your pen stopped midway through the second word. 

“S-Sorry,” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you lowered the pad. “On the phone, I thought you said your son was missing?” The woman nodded emphatically. 

“Yes! My son, Huxley.” 

“Is Huxley a…human child?” You asked softly, tilting your head and sparing a glance to Sahabi and the officer, who both looked equally confused. The woman scoffed and her head jerked back, offended that you would have the gall to ask such a question. 

“What a horrible idea!” She bit out. “Ugh, could you imagine? A child? As if.” She shook her head to reposition the hair that draped her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around her middle. “No, Huxley is my pomeranian. We stopped for some water and I took a call. When I looked back down, he was gone.” You took a deep breath and flipped your notebook closed.

“Right.” You folded your hands together in front of you. “Unfortunately, ma’am, we don’t work on missing pet cases. You can go down to the station and make a report, though.” The woman looked at you like you had grown a second head. 

“Um, excuse me, what?” She gave you a terse smile while she shook her head. “No. No, I don’t think so. You’re detectives, right? I need you to detect where my son went-” “We only work human cases.” Sahabi said. “Your dog is not your son.”

“How dare- you know I pay your salary, right? You work for me!” The officer stepped between Sahabi and the woman, who was frantically gesturing with her hands.

“Ma’am please,” the officer soothed. “I can take you down to the precinct. We can file a missing animal report there.” Sahabi and you gave nods to the officer and wished him luck. 

“This is bullshit! I want to talk to their supervisor!” You heard her yelp as you walked away. When you got back in your car, you let out a breath.

“Crazies are out early today,” Sahabi noted, returning to her coffee. You mumbled in agreement. She pulled out of her parking spot and began the drive back to the precinct to collect lab results from a suspected overdose case. But just as she turned onto the main road, her phone rang. Sahabi answered it with her professional voice, but surprise crept into her words as she talked. After she hung up, you gave her a curious look. She looked at you with a smile, excitement twinkling in her eye. “Double homicide!” She said enthusiastically, making a U-turn. You rolled your eyes and laughed a little at her enthusiasm. But it wasn’t unfounded. You were about to do real detective work.

Sahabi absolutely broke a few traffic laws to get you to the crime scene as quickly as possible. The entire time, she was rattling off potential ideas. Execution? Drug deal gone bad? Jilted lovers? So many possibilities! You had to remind her that, as detectives, you had to uphold some semblance of professionalism and that she should probably rein in the curiosity in case there were any next of kin there. She waved you off, assuring you it would be fine. When you got to the crime scene, flashing blue and red lights crowded the side of the road. There were three squad cars there. Two from Santa Monica PD, and one from LAPD. You thought it was a bit odd, but considering the two cities bordered each other, you didn’t pay much mind. What piqued your interest was the car without lights. A Ford Taurus, identical to yours, but in silver. You pursed your lips and kept your eyes on it while Sahabi parked. 

“Are there other detectives on the case?” You asked her, nodding to the car. She shook her head.

“Not that I’m aware of. Might belong to the victims?” You stepped out of the car and stretched a little. The sun was fully out, but a nice breeze snuck under your silk blouse and prevented the heat from settling against your skin. The crime scene was on the opposite side of the road. Not a major road, but popular enough that uniforms had shut it down before you had arrived. Palm trees swayed on one side and an open field sprawled to the other. You caught sight of two bodies lying next to a road sign, discolored and bloated. The heat had already started working on them. Sahabi began weaving through the barricade and you hurried along behind her, eyes and ears open and ready to learn. This was your first double homicide, actually your first homicide in general, something that you gathered was rare to see in your division by the way Sahabi talked about it. Especially the 'double' part. Something you might not see again during your time at SMPD.  When you made your way past the barricade of cop cars, you paused for a moment. There were two suited men already looking at the scene. One was talking to one of the patrolmen and the other looked down at one of the bodies from behind his sunglasses, hands in his pockets and tie gently fluttering in the breeze. They both had badges clipped to their belts. The man talking to the officer noticed you first and he nodded. Sahabi approached him.

“Hello,” the man said. He had a small smile on his face. “My name is Detective Nate Moretta. This is my partner Detective Sammy Bryant. We’re with the LAPD.” You and Sahabi introduced yourselves, but shared a quick look. LAPD detectives. You’d only interacted with a few LAPD detectives during your time on the force, but Sahabi had stories. Multiple incidents of LAPD stealing arrests. They thought they were so much better than the cities surrounding Los Angeles. They had funding. They had shows and movies made about them. And you were stuck getting calls about lost dogs. Most of the detectives had a complex. They were good cops and they knew it. But they believed that they were good because they worked for the LAPD, and no other department could compare. You mentally braced yourself for the condescension that was about to spill from the detectives’ mouths. But when you introduced yourselves, they held out their hands. They shook them with professionalism. Like you were equals. It surprised you a bit, but you assumed that the LAPD ‘quirks’ would soon shine through. 

“What do we have so far?” Sahabi asked, crossing the street to where the bodies were. 

“Looks like a good ol’ fashioned shootout!” Bryant answered as you walked. “Some real wild west shit.” He gestured between the two bodies. They weren’t covered with the tarps yet. They were lying with their feet facing each other, sprawled out on their backs with guns in hand. Each had a single bullet wound to the chest. You tried to pay attention to what Detective Bryant was saying, you really, truly did. But you found your eyes wandering. His hair was short, but you could see the curls that formed at the nape of his neck. The color was dark, but when he moved his head just right, the sunlight captured hints of auburn in the strands. His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses and his face and neck were covered in constellations of freckles. His shoulders were wide and you were positive that if he took off his jacket, his biceps would fill out his sleeves nicely. You almost sighed when your eyes trailed down his torso and found the pudge of his stomach, slightly peeking out over his belt. Heat sparked in your belly, and you couldn’t blame it on the rising air temperature. You bit down on the inside of your bottom lip. Detective Sammy Bryant looked good. He had a rounded face that teetered perfectly on the line between handsome and adorable. And his hands…maybe it was weird to appreciate the thickness of his fingers as they pointed at corpses, but you didn’t care. It had been so long since a man caught your attention. You wanted to drink the sight of him in and burn it against the back of your retinas. You weren’t done ogling him, but the glint of his badge caught your attention. Wait.

“Hold on, why did the LAPD send detectives?” You asked from behind your partner after Bryant stopped talking. Moretta’s eyes flicked to yours, slightly startled like he had forgotten you were there. “Isn’t this Santa Monica jurisdiction?" You saw Bryant’s lips curl in a smile, showing off slightly crooked teeth. You wanted to feel them nipping at your skin. Okay, wow. You scolded yourself. Calm down. We’re working. 

“City limit.” He said simply, pointing at the street sign that parted the two bodies. You hadn’t read it before but, sure enough, it was the LA/Santa Monica city limit marker. One corpse on either side. It was actually impressive how perfectly equidistant they were. Sahabi let out an annoyed groan.

“Oh.” You looked at Sahabi for a clarifying answer. “So. Does that mean we’re…both on the case? How does that work?” You said it mainly to your partner, but Moretta answered for her.

“We’ll write up the initial report,” He explained “We’ll hand it in to our supervisor who will call yours. And they’ll figure out who has jurisdiction over it and appoint a lead. No matter who ends up taking it, I’m sure we’ll be in contact. Comparing notes and such.” To his credit, Moretta tried to remain vague. But the way he said it assumed that LAPD would be taking over. Why wouldn’t they? You sensed Sahabi bristling at his words. She was excited to finally have some good detective action. Of course the vultures at the LAPD would swoop in on this one, too. Her nose twitched in annoyance, but she was able to keep her composure. She nodded and thanked them. Moretta held out his business card, telling her to continue the initial canvas but to update him on any news. Your eyes flicked to Bryant and found him watching you. He looked away as soon as your gaze fell on him, cheeks a little pink. Probably from the sun and his fair complexion. You practically had to drag Sahabi away from the bodies. Once you were back in the car, she slammed the door shut, cursing under her breath.

“I don’t want to talk to fucking hitchhikers to see if they’ve got any information. I want to be there with CSU.” She still had Moretta’s card in her hand. She crinkled it in her fist and dropped it in the cupholder. “The one time we could actually do something interesting. Actually solve an important homicide instead of just returning some asshole’s fifth Ferrari. And of course, of fucking course it’s on the city line.” Her hands dug into the leather of the steering wheel. You looked at her with sympathy. Sahabi was ambitious. She had been forced to change departments and all she wanted was to solve high stakes cases again. Not because she wanted her fifteen minutes of fame, but because she wanted to help people. That’s why she had become a cop in the first place. But as the days went on and every call turned out to be nothing intense, she felt like she wasn’t really doing anything. She hadn’t seen a murder case come across her desk in years, well before you came along. And while it was nice reuniting parents and lost kids, it made her feel like a mall cop. So, yea, you felt bad for her. You didn’t really care if you got the case or not. You were never good at telling families they lost a loved one. Never knew what to say. If someone else had to deal with that, it was no skin off your nose. 

“You don’t know if they’re taking it yet,” You pointed out, offering her a placating smile. “We should treat it like it’s going to be our case. You know, like, manifest it by acting like it’s already ours.” Sahabi took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a few moments, her thick lashes fluttered open again. 

“You’re right,” She said softly, turning the key and putting the car in reverse. “Let’s see what we can find.”

You didn’t find much. Sahabi had driven you around the nearest ten blocks, asking questions to anyone who didn’t slam a door in your face. You got tired fast, but Sahabi had a passionate fervor about her. So, you tagged along and wrote everything down until your hand was cramping. After a few hours, all you had to show for your efforts was confirmation that gunshots had been heard around the time of death (though, really, could the residents of this neighborhood distinguish between gunshots, fireworks, and a car backfiring?) and a report of a black sedan speeding away from the area the bodies were found in. A partial plate number, too. A Nevada plate ending in K59. It wasn’t amazing or concrete evidence, but it was something. By the time your shift was over, you felt dead on your feet. You dragged yourself home and plopped on your bed, face first. You woke up ten hours later in the same position.

The next few days continued the cycle: looking hard for any more information until you collapsed, even though the bodies hadn’t been identified yet. Apparently the LAPD had better things to do. Between Sahabi pushing to uncover a secret piece of evidence and continuing to work a case on a string of minor break ins, you were exhausted. 

You walked into the precinct with sleep still heavy in your eyes. You sunk down into your desk chair and rubbed at your face. You peered over the partition. Sahabi was sitting up straight, typing away at her computer with a determined expression.

“Genuinely how are you upright right now?” You groaned, slowly clicking the log-in button on your monitor. “I don’t think I’ve gotten any restful sleep in days.” Sahabi just shrugged. Her gaze was hardened and her jaw was clenched. Something was bothering her. You were about to ask if she was alright when you heard your supervisor’s door click open and her voice call you into her office. You gave a curious glance across the divider, but your partner’s eyes stayed glued to her screen, unblinking. You pushed yourself back and staggered to your feet. Your knees were killing you. You walked around the corner and into Detective Willis’ office, taking a moment to look out her window into the park across the street. There were dogs chasing each other in the early morning light. Detective Willis gestured for you to sit. As you did, your eyes scanned the room. You didn’t enter often. Plaques and framed newspaper clippings covered the walls, a testament to Willis’ impressive fifteen-year tenure. You settled into the chair on the opposite side of her desk, adjusting your top and smoothing your pants. You kept your hands folded in your lap. You really didn’t know what she wanted from you. You thought you had been doing well in your training so far, but maybe the Detective had other opinions. Her face was unreadable, as it always was, and nervous energy buzzed in your veins as you waited for her to speak. Willis adjusted her papers on her desk.

“Do you enjoy being a detective?” She said, almost casually, but you knew better than to assume that it was. You nodded with a genuine smile.

“I do.” You said, straightening your posture. “I like the fulfillment of it. It’s nice to be able to see a case til the end instead of having to pass it on to a different department.” When you were on patrol, you were often peeved by the fact that it wasn’t your job to investigate crimes. You’d meet these people, begging for you to help them get away from their abusive partners or to help them get sober, but all you could do was just write it down and send the complaint to its respective department. While you didn’t get all the sexy cases, being a detective allowed you to see each of them through. Give actual closure to families, and be the one to deliver the news. The relief on their face when you told them that you’d found their family heirlooms lost in a robbery was the reason you kept going, even if you didn’t make national news. Willis looked you over and pursed her lips.

“Good.” She said simply “That’s good. I think you have some real potential, kid.” Your cheeks burned with the praise and you forced down a smile. 

“Thank you, Detective.” “Of course,” Willis continued, “You still have a lot to learn before you become a DII.” She gestured out to where Sahabi was sitting. “You have a good mentor, but even she hasn’t seen everything. I’ll get to the point. The initial report on that double homicide on city lines came in last night. After reviewing it, both departments have agreed on making it a joint investigation.” Your eyes widened in surprise. You were not expecting the LAPD to share. Willis seemed to read your mind. “It doesn’t happen often,” She acknowledged. “But given the nature of the case, and the desperate need for good PR, we’re going to work together.”

“Oh, a-alright. Does Detective Sahabi know? When should we start?” You began to rise and Willis hesitated.

“Detective Sahabi is not working the case,” She said gingerly, like it was a sore subject. Your eyes snapped out the glass partition to look at your partner’s desk. She was watching you, but flicked her gaze down when she noticed you looking back. Right. That explained a lot.

“Can I ask why?” You turned your attention back to your supervisor. “I know she was looking forward to getting back into homicide.”

“Sahabi is an incredible detective and we need her excellence focused elsewhere.” Meaning they didn’t want to waste more resources than necessary. “There are only two detectives working this case, one from the LAPD and one from this department- you. You’ll have access to both departments’ resources, including Sahabi if you wish, but she will remain here. The case files and evidence will stay at LAPD while the case is open.” Of course it would.

“Who did the LAPD choose? Was it one of the detectives we met at the scene?” Your chest ached. You felt extremely bad for Sahabi. She was so excited to work on the case. All you wanted to do was talk to her. Willis flicked through the papers in the file in front of her.

“Detective Samuel Bryant is the lead on the case,” She said and your heart jumped for a moment. The hot one? The one who had caught you staring at his ass? Great. “Detective Bryant is a new DII, promoted around the same time you were and he needs some experience leading his own cases without his usual partner. The case should be pretty open and shut. Looks like a dueling type of situation, no outside suspects. All you’ll have to do is shadow him and see what it’s like to cover a homicide. Bryant’s worked plenty of ‘em. I trust his abilities. It’ll be a good experience.” You looked at her skeptically. She lowered the papers and took off her reading glasses, looking at you with warmth and lowering her voice a tinge. “I know you don’t want to stay here forever. It’ll be good to get some training on higher caliber cases before moving on to your next department.” You swallowed at her words and looked at your shoes. It was true. You didn’t think you wanted to work in minor crimes forever. But it was so early on in your detective career that you had no idea what you wanted to do with your life. Maybe broadening your horizons wasn’t such a bad idea. You could work the case, see if you enjoyed homicide, and go from there. 

You stood from the seat and shook Willis’ hand. “Thank you, Detective Willis. I appreciate that you considered me for the role. When does it start?”

“Oh, Bryant’s waiting for you outside. Grab your stuff. He’s going to drive you back to his precinct to get you caught up on what he has already.” She didn’t give you any time to process her words before pushing you out of her office and back into the main room. The moment you returned to your desk, your partner pushed back her chair and stood up.

“Have fun.” Sahabi said. Her words were strained and she had a death grip on her coffee mug. The mug you had bought her when you were first assigned as partners. It had a cartoon donkey wearing a party hat printed on the porcelain. She loved that mug, but she was holding it like it owed her money. She pressed her lips together in what you assumed was an attempt at a polite smile before turning and walking towards the break room. You followed her. 

“Sahabi,” you called gently. She didn’t turn around, just continued past the door of the small kitchen. Sahabi placed her mug under the coffee maker. “Maren,” you continued,  “I’m so sorry. I don’t want this. I don’t want to work this case. You should be the one on it. I get that you’re mad at me but-“ She scoffed and raised her hand for you to stop. 

“I’m not angry at you.” She said, back still turned to you. “I’m upset that they didn't even consider me for the job. They just went straight for the DI with no homicide experience and barely enough field training to do canvassing by herself, let alone catch a murderer.” The words stung, but you let them roll off your back. You knew she was exaggerating. And you knew this wasn't about you. You gave her the space to continue. Her shoulders slumped, anger giving way to the exhaustion mirrored in your own body. “I tried so hard,” she said softly, like the words were meant for only her ears and you just so happened to be there. “I pushed and pushed to get any sort of evidence. I tried to prove that I’m a good detective. That I can work a homicide again. But it doesn’t even matter. They said I’m ‘too important’ to shift my focus to outside cases. But it’s not an outside case. It’s our case. We were supposed to solve it together.” Sahabi took her refilled mug and brought it to her glossed lips. You swallowed and looked at your feet. You were about to say how they were right, that she really was invaluable to the department and you knew it would collapse without her. But you held your tongue. She needed to feel this and voice her frustrations without you trying to come in and solve her problems. 

“I really am sorry, Sahabi. They should’ve given it to you.” You said meekly. And you believed it. What could you offer the LAPD that she couldn’t? Sahabi sighed and turned to you, resting a hand on your bicep. 

“You’re a good detective,” she whispered. “This case will be good for you. Please, just keep me updated. Let me know if I can help in any way. I want to be part of this investigation as much as I can.” You let out an uneasy laugh at her words. 

“You don't have to worry, I think I’m pretty much useless without you. I’ll keep you in the loop.” Sahabi let out a giggle and let her head tilt to one side. She looked at you fondly. 

“Show those vultures at the LAPD how we do it in Santa Monica, okay? Go kick ass.”

Sammy leaned against his car. He was waiting by the front steps of the SMPD and he was getting bored. He tapped more M&Ms into the palm of his hand and began popping them in his mouth one by one. Nate had poked fun at his snacking habits, but Sammy got shot at for a living. If he wanted chocolate for breakfast, he felt like he was entitled to it. Besides, he needed a bit of a pick-me-up. The night before, the guys had taken him and Nate out to the strip club to celebrate Nate’s new baby. Watching naked women was a twisted way of celebrating your wife pushing out an entire human being, in Sammy’s personal opinion, but he tagged along anyway. It wasn’t until two am that he realized he needed to be in the front of SMPD by seven. He was still a little groggy, but the M&Ms were helping with morale. 

All tiredness was wiped from his mind when the main doors opened. A piece of candy fell from his palm, but he didn’t care. His eyes were locked on you. The quiet detective he had met at the crime scene. The one that he caught sizing him up with an absentminded smile. He had stood taller for the rest of the day, a shock of confidence flowing through him. It had been years since a woman looked at him like that. Usually Nate got all the attention. So when you looked right past him and set your sights on Sammy…yea, he noticed. Unfortunately he didn’t notice until after you left. He thought he was hallucinating. Maybe you were nervous. He got the impression, that was now confirmed, that you were new to the detective’s department. Maybe you were just trying to get a feel for the strangers who encroached on your turf. But when you and your partner had left and they had finished their work, Nate gave him a small smile. Sammy tilted his head. Nate just laughed and shook his head. 

“You really are blind, aren’t you?” he had said and it took several minutes of coaxing from Sammy to get him to elaborate. “That one detective was absolutely making eyes at you, man.” 

“No way,” Sammy scoffed. “That’s unprofessional. She was just…” He gestured vaguely around him. But words escaped him and he closed his mouth without finishing the thought. 

“Right.” Nate chuckled, pulling out onto the road. And at first, he really believed that you were just looking at him. Taking in the scene. But as they drove back in silence to the precinct, doubt began to bubble in his brain. He did catch you staring, and you looked away quickly like you were embarrassed. You held onto every word he said when he was giving you the briefing at the scene. He allowed Nate’s words to settle, and he carried himself taller for the rest of the day. But when he got out of the shower that night and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, the doubt returned. Nate was out of his mind. Sleep deprived from having a newborn, surely. There was no way you wanted him. Maybe five years ago when he was on patrol and before his muscles had softened. Definitely not now.

The feelings of inadequacy sparked up again when you saw him and gave a small wave, descending the stairs. He was grateful he was wearing sunglasses so you didn’t catch the way his eyes were locked on you the entire time. Sammy didn’t notice you a few days ago, but he sure as hell noticed you now. The top you wore complimented your eyes and your pants showed off your powerful legs. The light breeze ruffled your hair and he caught the faint scent of your perfume. The smell lodged itself in his brain, hitting a primal section of it that made his chest feel fuzzy. He found himself taking a deeper breath to try and catch more of it. You approached his car with your bag and dipped your head in greeting. You reintroduced yourself and held out a hand. He shook it with the one that didn’t hold candy in it.

“You’re Detective Bryant, right?” You asked before he could speak. 

“Just Sammy,” He smiled. “We're partners now. No need to be formal.” You grinned, running your palms down your thighs. He hoped it was just because you were nervous and not because the very act of touching him disgusted you. Sammy swallowed and held out his palm. “Would you like an M&M?” God what was wrong with him? Was he trying to flirt or scare you away? Maybe a bit of both.

“It’s seven in the morning.” You gave him a look, dismissing the offer. 

“So?” He shrugged and tossed the rest of them in his mouth. “Your loss.”

“Alright, Just Sammy,” You said with a smile, and the sound of his name leaving your lips made his heart flip. “I hear you’re taking me to your office.” He nodded and dusted off his palms from the slightly melted chocolate. Sammy opened the passenger door for you and stood aside. You gave him a small thank you and dipped into the seat. He closed the door and rounded the car. As he did so, he took a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. It was going to be a long day.

The first few minutes of driving was a little awkward. Something about Sammy’s posture as he drove told you he didn’t really want to be there. You didn’t blame him. He was stuck leading his first case with some no-name from a different department. You kept your fingers interlocked while you watched the road ahead, looking for a way to break the silence.

“So how long have you been a detective?” 

“‘Bout three years total,” Sammy answered, shifting in his seat slightly. “First year as a DII, though.”

“Do you like it better than patrol?”

“It’s…different.” He said slowly, unsure if that was the proper word. “It’s a lot more psychological work than physical. I do a lot of gang cases so I have to know what’s going on in all the neighborhoods all the time. It can be a lot. But at least I don’t have to wear that stupid belt anymore.” Your eyes moved to him. He was wearing a pair of old jeans and a blue polo shirt, white tanktop poking out from beneath it. A LAPD windbreaker was draped around his shoulders.

“Do LAPD detectives always dress so casually?” You hadn’t meant it as an insult, but you saw him flinch slightly and let out a self-conscious laugh. 

“N-No,” he chuckled, giving you a wide smile. “No, I was doing surveillance yesterday and didn’t have time to change.” That sparked your interest and you shifted to look at him.

“Surveillance?” You said, fully allowing your intrigue to be apparent. “On what? Are you undercover for something?” 

“I can’t tell you.” He apologized, expression hardening. “Top secret. Classified.” He paused for a moment, taking in your disappointed look, before breaking out into a smile again. “M'Just kidding, it’s for gang stuff. Trying to get information on an old king pin.” You exhaled through your nose.

“Don’t do that,” You rolled your eyes. “You scared me. Thought you were gonna say you’d have to kill me if you told me.”

“I do. Get out of the car.” The two of you shared a laugh and the silence that followed was considerably less awkward than it had been. You both seemed more relaxed. Sammy swallowed before speaking again.

“S-so did you always want to do this?” He asked. By the way he said the words, you could tell he was trying to get to know you, not just make small talk.

“Work a murder investigation?”

“Just being a cop in general. Though I guess that’s a good question, too.”

“Hm,” you considered, tilting your head. “In a way, yes. I knew I wanted to help people ever since I was a kid. My dad was a big fan of detective shows and my mom loved medical dramas. I figured I’d either be a detective or a doctor. One was cheaper than the other.” You gave an ammused noise. “As for the murder stuff, I’m not sure. I’ll be honest I thought the LAPD would just take over the case. I’m a bit surprised that you even wanted our help specifically. We don’t have a homicide division at our precinct. We just got called because we were the closest unit there.” 

“Really?” Sammy sounded surprised. “That partner of yours looked like she’s worked a few cases. Had the questions lined up and everything.” 

“Sahabi used to work down in Central,” You shrugged. “She…she got hurt last year. A suspect roughed her up pretty badly during an arrest. So they sent her to “light” work and to train new detectives. We mainly do missing persons and small robberies. Tourists who get pickpocketed on the pier and things like that.” You weren’t sure why but, even though you had only met him once, you felt comfortable talking to Sammy. When he didn’t jump in, you continued. “It’s…not groundbreaking work. But it’s better than sitting around doing nothing, I suppose. I don’t know, sometimes it feels like I’m not doing anything important. Like I know I’m still learning and all, but I make stupid mistakes. Sometimes I question if I’ll ever get to the point where I can make a difference.” You looked out the window at the trees and telephone wires so you didn’t have to look at the detective driving. You could feel his eyes on you.

“I get it,” Sammy said softly. “It’s hard not to compare yourself to other departments. Hell, I don’t think I’m as good as some of the detectives in my own department sometimes. Working beside people who have medals ‘n shit. It can get to you, make you feel like you’re not good enough.” You don’t see how his eyes glaze over and his grip on the wheel tightens. “But you know what they call the lowest-ranking graduate from the academy?” You met his gaze and shook your head. “Officer. You got here for a reason. You’re doing fine.” He assured. And you do feel a bit better. “I looked at your file. You’re new. What you’re feeling is normal. I mean, look at me. I’m a DII and I never even wanted to be a cop.”

“Really?” “Hell no!” He scoffed, face scrunching. “I was a major stoner in high school. Hated cops- thought they were all full of themselves. My friends made me apply as a joke and…well, shit, I got in. It was the first time in my life I’d been accepted into something. I went through training and somehow I passed. You wanted to be here. You’ve got a lot more motivation than me. I think you’ll do great. Just, y’know, try not to get shot while we’re doing this.” That got a giggle out of you.

“I’ll try my best,” you promised. A moment passed before you added, softer, “Thank you, Detective Bryant. I didn’t mean to turn it into an emotional conversation, but I appreciate the advice.”

“Sammy.” He corrected. 

“Sammy.”

“No problem, kid. We’re partners now. Gotta know what makes you tick.” The car slowed to a stop at a red light and Sammy’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He flipped it open and nodded along to the voice on the other end. When he hung up he puffed out a breath and rubbed his thighs. “One of the bodies was identified.” He explained. “Have you broken the news before?” 

“Not for a homicide.” You reminded him and Sammy nodded, flicking on his blinker.

“Prepare yourself. It’s never easy.”

Sammy was right. It wasn’t easy. When you pulled up to the small house, there were two kids playing in the yard. The grass was yellow and overgrown, caged in by a link fence. The boys stopped tossing the ball when they saw you get out of the car. As you approached the fence gate, one of the boys ran inside. The other just stared at you. You waited by the gate until the door to the house opened and a woman stepped out. She took two steps before her hand crumpled the side of her night gown and her face dropped. After a deep breath, she walked down the porch steps and through the yard.

“Who are you?” She said, but her words seemed distant, like she knew the answer. You introduced yourself.

“We’re here about your son, Thomas.” You kept your voice neutral. You saw her swallow and she undid the latch of the fence.

“What did he do now?” 

“M-Maybe we should talk inside,” You offered. The mother looked around the street, noting a few nosy neighbors and nodded, ushering her kids inside and you followed. Once you were inside, you shared a look with Sammy and he nodded, a signal to go talk to the mother. He got down to the level of the kids. 

“What’re your names?” His tone was soft, reaching out his hand. “My name is Sammy.” One of the kids looked up at his mom and after she nodded, he shook his hand. You gestured for his mother to join you in the other room and she did. You heard Sammy talking to the boy and his brother.

“Michael.” 

“Gus.”

“Michael and Gus,” Sammy repeated, “It’s nice to meet you. Can I ask you some things?” You took a deep breath and turned to the mother. The woman was wringing her hands and her skin looked ashen and clammy. 

“Mrs. Green,” You started gently. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but your son was killed a few days ago. We identified his body this morning.” 

“Thomas is dead?” She asked, voice extremely fragile.

“I’m afraid so.” You nodded. You had expected her to scream, kick, pounce at you. Anything to show you her grief. But she didn’t. She just nodded and her eyes glazed over.

“Thomas didn’t come home.” Her voice cracked. “I knew something wasn’t right. But…I thought he got arrested or something. Not…not killed.” She took a shaky inhale and a tear slipped from her eye. She pressed her palm over her mouth to stifle a sob. You stood there, compassion filling your chest, and completely unable to help her. “H-How?” Your jaw clenched and your nails dug into your palm.

“He was murdered.” That caused a wail of horror to leave her lips. She staggered forward and you rushed to catch her. She fell into your arms with loud sobs. You held her tightly and her fingers gripped into your blouse, tears staining the fabric. “I’m so sorry.” You told her, but you knew your words didn’t have the weight they needed to. 

“Why?” She cried, sniffling and hiccupping. “My boy…my boy…” You guided her to the ground so she could sit against the kitchen cabinets. “How could this happen? Who could do something like this?” You kneeled and held her hand. She clutched it, looking up at you with wide, desperate eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Green.” You repeated. “It’s the worst news to receive. My…my aunt lost her son recently. I was there when the detectives told her. It’s cruel and no one should ever have to hear those words. We're going to find who hurt Thomas.” You used your free hand to pull one of your cards from inside your jacket. You handed it to her and she took it. “My partner’s going to ask you some questions while I take a look around. If you need anything, you just give me a call, okay?” She gave a weak nod and you stood up. You jumped a bit when you saw Sammy standing in the doorway of the kitchen. You gave him a nod and he stepped aside for you to go into the living room. 

After you had searched Thomas’ room for anything that might be helpful, you met Sammy back at the car. 

“Find anything?” He asked, popping the door open in tandem with you. You both settled into your seats.

“I found a picture on his dresser of him with a woman.” You handed the photo to him. “Her necklace says ‘Haylee.’ Could be a girlfriend.” Sammy nodded and handed the photo back to you. “What about you? Anything from mom?”

“Thomas left the house on Tuesday night. He said he was going to meet a friend at the Santa Monica pier. The coroner estimated the time of death either Wednesday night or Thursday morning. She said it wasn’t unusual for him to be gone for a few days, but he had a shift on Wednesday. We’ll reach out and see if he showed up.” You nodded as he listed the information. Each tidbit settled into your mind and you began to test out how things fit together. “Was that true?” Sammy pulled you from your musings. You blinked at him. “That thing about your aunt?” Your eyebrows pulled together with confusion.

“Why would I lie about that?” You asked incredulously and a bit offended.

“I dunno,” Sammy shrugged, cheeks heating up. “Sometimes detectives lie to make families feel better. To make them feel like they’re not alone.”

“No,” You scoffed. “I didn’t lie about my cousin dying, Sammy.”

“Sorry,” He apologized, scratching behind his ear and trying to hide his guilty expression. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

You sighed before you began to explain. “I try to make genuine connections with the victims and their families. It makes them trust us more. It shows them like we think of them as people and not just numbers.” Sammy smiled. That adorable crooked smile that made your heart flutter against your sternum and any anger you had toward him dissipate.

“Not a lot of detectives think that way. That’s good. You did good.” His praise sent a shot of heat down your legs. 

“Thank you.” You tried to keep your voice normal and you hid your smile as Sammy started the car.

The rest of the day was spent filling out paperwork. Thomas had, in fact, not shown up for his night shift on Wednesday, so that solidified the time of death window. The other body still hadn’t been identified. He was beaten pretty badly before he was shot point-blank in the face. They needed to use a combination of fingerprints and dental records in the process of identification and it was apparently not going well. The LAPD office was nice, but not exactly what you expected. Warm brown desks on short grey carpet. Boxes piled up against the wall with rolls of police tape resting on top. You were expecting something more…sleek. And to be fair, maybe the Hollywood division was, but this looked eerily similar to your own precinct. You were assigned a small desk perpendicular to Sammy and Detective Moretta’s. Sammy had mumbled when you first arrived, saying it was already supposed to be cleared, but it wasn’t. After setting everything to the side, Sammy gave you a tour. 

You emerged from the breakroom with two mugs in your hands. Even their coffee smelled better. You rested one mug on Sammy’s desk. He blinked at it in confusion, not entirely realizing that you had taken it in the first place.

“It was empty,” You explained, taking a sip from your own cup. “Figured you might want a refill.” 

“Thanks.” After swallowing a gulp, he nodded to the open file on your desk. “How’s your report going? Need help filling anything in? Any questions?” You shook your head.

“Mm, no, I think I’ve got it.” You sighed. “Just tedious.” Sammy chuckled at that, scooting his chair further into his desk and readying his pen.

“Welcome to being a detective.” You scoffed and stretched your back, leaning and raising your arms. Sammy’s breath caught in his throat when he saw a sliver of skin exposed from under your top. He swiftly looked away and resumed transcribing his notes. 

“Do you want dinner? I’m not super familiar with the area, so you can choose.” You asked, settling back into your chair and cracking your fingers. Sammy shook his head.

“No, I, uh, meal prep,” He said, a tiny hint of shame lacing the words. “I’m a chronic snacker. If I don’t plan my meals I’ll never eat real food. Just muffins and stuff.” 

“I like muffins.” You shrugged. “There’s a really good bakery down the road from my house. I’ll bring you some.” Sammy grinned down at his file. “So what’d you bring today?”

“Spaghetti.” 

“Nice.” You fell back into a silence as you worked, checking phone numbers and addresses, flipping through witness statements, and waiting for the phone to ring for a positive ID on your second victim. 

When your vision was about to go blurry from all the small text, you looked up. Your eyes found a white-board, the kind that they always showed in movies. There were printed out pictures of mug shots, blood splatter analyses, and names that had crossed out. You looked around the room to the countless white boxes, each filled with more case files than you could imagine. All about murder. “How do you stay sane with it all?” You asked Sammy softly. “Being surrounded by so much death and violence every day?” Sammy looked up and sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“You don’t.” He admitted. “But you have to try. You gotta find a hobby. Something to take your mind off it all once you get home. You can’t let yourself think about it all the time.”

“What do you do?”

“I like to read.” A small but sad smile crept up to his face. “This kid I knew made fun of me for not reading enough books. So I picked up a few after…well, I got some of his recommendations. I’m currently reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy. You know, that guy who wrote No Country for Old Men?”

“Sure,” You nodded. “I’ve heard of it. I’ve wanted to get back into reading for a while. There’s this book my friend gave me for my birthday that I haven’t gotten around to yet.”

“What’s it called?”

“Oh,” You felt a spark of embarrassment light up your cheeks. He was genuinely curious, and you didn’t have the mind to make something up. “It’s, um,” You cleared your throat “It’s called Love’s Savage Secret.” You tried to make it sound dramatic and silly, like you weren’t actually serious about reading it. Even though you were. “It’s a spy romance novel. Stupid.” You waved your hand dismissively. Sammy was about to say something, but his phone interrupted his thoughts. It seemed to do that a lot.

“Okay, thank you.” Sammy hung up and shook his head, exhaling sharply. “That was the coroner. No ID on the body yet, but they found something. Or, rather they didn’t. Thomas had gunpowder residue on his hand. Our John Doe did not.” 

“So, even though the ballistics match and he was holding the gun, Doe didn’t actually shoot the gun that killed Thomas?” Pieces clicked in your mind. “That means there was a third person. Thomas shot Doe but someone else shot Thomas!” You gasped out the words. Sammy nodded solemnly. He scooted back his chair and flipped open his phone to make another call. But before he did, he gave you a look. A hesitant one, maybe, but there was something else there.

“You should go home. Get some rest.” Sammy told you “It’s not just a paperwork case anymore. You’re working a real double homicide. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” With that, he walked to the window and dialed a number. Your throat went dry and you felt every pump of your heart in your chest. Shit. You should be horrified. Upset that there was a murderer on the loose and you were responsible for finding them. But you weren’t. Because it wasn’t just you. You and Sammy would be working together for longer than you thought. You should be pissed. So then why was your blood buzzing with excitement?