When a lawful and skilled detective collides with a persistent gang leader merely devoted to his world of composed crime - their intelligence combined emits a dangerous game.
Isabel Costellanos just so happens to obtain one prominent reason to help...
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For the city's morgue, the lack of security is uncanny. But I suppose it's fortunate for us, being as we're about to break in to it. There are no security cameras on the small tract of land - not even for another few hundred feet down the desolate pavements.
There's one guard working night shift, and that's Sam. He use to manage the Help Desk at the Station before Delilah came along. So I've gotten to know him well enough to know he secretly takes a forty-five minute lunch break every night on duty - which starts in five minutes.
And luckily for us, we're only about eight minutes away.
I know what we're doing is dark, and very new to me. But I don't think I could be more ready than I am now.
When I found out that Peterson was found, it felt like my entire soul left my body. For a split second I felt like I couldn't move, like I couldn't speak or even think. And within that first moment, too, I thought I had lost everything then and there - my job, everything I had built here.
But then I remembered that I still have time. Time to make things right; illegal, but right.
I have to clean up what we've done - we have to.
Together.
And the best part about it is, I've helped around the morgue more than enough to know it's every corner. I'm the eyes, and Rio will be the hands.
Sitting next to Rio in his cozy black hoodie, I take in a soft breath of preparation when I see we're pulling up to the street of the morgue. The road is vacant to our advantage, and the first thing I notice is Sam's car isn't parked at the spot it always is.
He already left for his break. And when I look over to meet Rio's calm gaze after he parks his car stealthily in walking distance, I know we both know what this means.
We have to start now.
I send him an affirming nod as he does the same, and without saying a word, we both exit the car, silently closing the doors behind us.
With the hoodie over my head and with Rio's the same, his taller figure follows into step next to me as we walk up to the morgue's entrance doors. Once right outside of them, we stop for Rio to take out the two flattened paperclips from his pocket a moment.
I watch him get down on one knee in preparation to pick the lock - and I can't help but think about one thing in particular as he's knelt down next to me.
