Watch My Six

A girl aged 15 is found in a field. Dead, her skin is blue, mostly likely been outside for 3 days. A fisherman felt like fishing in an area he wasn't supposed to go to. I cut him loose, if he hadn't been there, that girl could have been lying there much longer. She's the only 15 year old girl without a cellphone, no idea who she is. She's thin, Latina, pig tails. Whoever did this was bored or had a fetish for girls with pigtails. She gets put on the gurney and taken away. My captain goes on the news to tell the whole city of San Antonio, Texas. Explaining what was found and who to contact if any information is discovered. He promises the crowd to not panic, everything is under control, and to expect a picture of the suspect soon. I wonder if he is thinking of running for office. Not once in my career have I heard him make statements such as "not panicking."

I drive to the precinct for paperwork. I miss the days of photographing crime scenes; focus on victim and surrounding area, snap photo, pass it to the officer, and go home. No paperwork needed. But alas, being 35 is considered old in the San Antoni PDs eyes. They wanted younger people to do the job; young bucks seeing the crazy shit helps weed out the "weak." The station smells of coffee, printer ink, and axe body spray. The cops are cool for the most part, some are college rejects, but hey, it took me seven years to get a bachelors degree. The Captain is fair, definitely takes his cues from cheesy 70s cop shows. "Give me your badge!" "Your ego is gonna get someone killed!"

I start typing the report: "At 1930, I arrive on the scene of a murder victim. No ID, no phone. Her skin was blue, most likely out in the field for 3 days. Found by fisherman." I check my notes for the rest of it, type it, and go. My wife is cooking meatloaf, my favorite. After dinner, I usually workout to get my frustration out. My wife thinks it's a sign of me becoming cold because I don't talk much about work, but what good would it do if I told her everything? She thinks it's her fault for not having kids; honestly, I'm glad we don't; especially with this teen getting murdered. I'd be a wreck.

I walk into my house, my wife is just finishing up dinner.

"Hey, honey!" She shouts.

"Hi, babe." I say in a monotone voice.

"How was work?"

"It was eventful."

"Well, put your feet up and open wide. I cooked meatloaf, your favorite!"

The meatloaf looks amazing. The way the light hits the sauce makes it shine like a ruby. It's almost an insult to eat it, but for my wife, it's an insult to let it sit there. The sides are homemade green beans and mashed potatoes. It looks like a Rockefeller painting. We eat, talk about our days, I don't tell her about the girl, the news will say it in about 30 minutes. I quit watching the news long ago, they always add something to make the story different. They need viewers. I finish my meal, my wife shoos me away from the kitchen. I go to my garage and rack my weights on the bench press. 230 pounds goes over my chest, up and down, up and down. I knock out 12 reps. I do my exercises, three sets of twelve, I want to be able to walk tomorrow. I walk back into the house, the girls story just ended on the news. My wife comes up and hugs me.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

"It's another day for me."

"Do you know how she died?"

"I asked her, but she didn't answer." I say coldly.

"What is the matter with you?"

"What?"

"You're so cold lately."

"I have seen enough bodies now for it to not bother me."

She walks away, I want to grab her and say sorry, but nothing comes out. I sit up a few more minutes, HBO is playing reruns of The Sopranos. I wish life was this simple, get money, go to strip club, kill whomever looks at you funny, and sleep with as many people as you want. I also wish talking about things with a doctor were this simple, but the doctors are all about making numbers in looney bins.