Working the Case

1

♥︎𝙴𝚟𝚒𝚎♥︎

"Agent Hopkins,"

I look up from my computer and at Louis at the sound of my name. "Yes?" I answer, turning my chair towards him when he steps up right at my desk.

Louis points his thumb over his shoulder. "The team is meeting now to go over your next case." He warns.

"Thanks," I nod once. He offers a tight smile before he steps away from me to continue on.

I straighten my pen on my desk before I stand and hurry towards the main room where everyone is already headed towards.

Graphic pictures are already blown up on the tv screen when I walk into the room. The sight has me looking down at the ground until I make it to the seat I usually sit in.

It will never be easy seeing those pictures first thing in the morning. Horror will fill my days until the day I retire. Maybe even longer than that.

I clear my throat and glance down at the case file in front of me as I drop down in a chair. Zach Coleman speaks first, standing right beside the big screen with the pictures.

"Hannah Gibbs." He declares. "Murdered three nights ago in Roseport, California." He continues.

He then goes on to explain and map out all of the gory details of how thirty-two-year old Hannah Gibbs was murdered.

Laurence Adler, Holly Jennings, Harper Mills, and Marco Beckett are all the other members of my six person team who sit around the same table as me and listen to the details of a violent murder.

Coleman explains to us why we're going where we are, and even gives us the latest weather update so we know how to pack.

We sit quietly and listen, only every now and then one of us will chime in to spit out a working theory or two. It's purely standard.

Adler, our unit chief, pushing his chair back and collects his file containing all of the crime scene pictures and information. "We leave in twenty." He warns as he already heads for the door.

With a heavy sigh, I close my file and glance Mill's way when she begins gliding her chair closer to me. "Roseport is a small town." She whispers, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively as she says it.

Mills has a working theory. Small towns have the hottest men.

I frown. "Mills, people are dead."

"As is the mood." She dryly grumbles as she begins to stand from her seat. I shake my head at her as I follow.

"Also, you say that with every single town we visit." I remind. She walks ahead of me, so I roll my eyes at the back of her head.

Mills looks over her shoulder briefly. "Not true." She argues. "Ohio."

Beckett hurries to walk in step with me. "That's true." He chimes in. "I never heard her say anything about guys in Ohio." He agrees. Mills grins as she points towards him.

Jennings steps up to my other side. "Boy talk?" She assumes. "Because I visited Roseport once." She brags, grinning smugly.

Mills gasps and looks back at her. "The men are hot, right?" She coaxes.

Jennings shrugs. "Most." She decides. "But I feel I should mention I was eight and we were just driving through." She quickly adds on a grimace.

Mills groans dreadfully at that. "Come on, Holly." She scoffs. "Give me something!" She pleads. Jennings slowly shrugs at her.

I shake my head at them. "You're assuming we have the time for things like that. I'll say it again: People are dead. We are there to work and work only."

The three of them exchange looks. "Buzzkill." They all grumble.

They planned that.

I purse my lips. "I'm not a buzzkill." I insist, having been called that a considerable about of times. "I'm realistic."

Mills laughs. "Realistically a buzzkill—Heyo!" She holds her hand up. Beckett grins and reaches over me to clap his palm against hers.

I scowl as I step away from Beckett. "Whatever," I dismiss them. "All of those citizens are likely in mourning. They lost two of their own."

Jennings huffs at me. She lifts a hand to my shoulder, automatically pulling a scowl to my face. "Come on, Evie. Let us have this." She groans. I don't answer her, but I do shake her hand off my shoulder.

These arguments are reruns. Every time we go somewhere, without fail, they always argue with me about this one foolish thing. The arguments have always ended with me simply shutting my mouth and listening to the three of them talk about whatever they're talking about.

Funny thing is, none of them ever do the things they say they'll do when we get to wherever we're sent.

I always end up completely right. We never have the time, and the towns people are torn up over their loses. No one ever acknowledges it on the flight back home.

Or ever.

It's not my fault they live in a fantasy world despite the horrors of our job. That's on them. And probably on their parents for letting them believe in Santa Clause until the old age of thirteen.

"You know who would meet their soulmate on one of these cases?" Mills suddenly begins the conversation all over again. "Hopkins." She declares.

I scoff as soon as I hear my name. "Soulmates aren't real. They're a fantasy."

Beckett shrugs at me. "I agree. She's the last person who would find her soulmate on one of these cases. Therefore, she's the most likely."

Jennings nods along. "Definitely." She agrees. "It's always the person you least expect."

"No, it isn't." I dryly argue. "It's always the person you medium suspect."

Mills gasps dramatically. "Oh my god, I told you guys she was the Dwight Schrute of the FBI."

I frown. "What?"

"You're so right." Jennings watches me curiously. "I wouldn't be surprised if she had ninja stars taped under her desk." She decides. I deflate and slowly look down at the ground.

I have a pepper spray holster taped under my desk.