Glory.

11

"Back in the field?!" Lieutenant barked. As I turned around, the whole precinct stared. "You want to get back on the field?" I pushed his office door shut, giving him a tired expression.

"Yes, sir."

"No. Absolutely fuckin' not—you're lucky I don't stick you behind a damn desk! Oden, you got shot. You could've died." He massaged his temples, his eyes closed as he huffed in frustration. The tall, annoyed man removed his glasses and I couldn't help but notice how grey his goatee had gotten. Being a cop was stressful. I know that much.

"That's the risk I take everyday I pick up my badge, sir. That's the risk we all take." I said, my hands up in disbelief. "The case is at a stand still and all you're doing is making me sit around here like a child in a dentist's office—it's not fair!" My hands now rested on my hips as I paced back and forth.

"You think I'm doing this for shits and giggles?" He shouted. "Your shoulder still isn't in good shape, and I can't have you getting another injury on our watch—so no." Lieutenant slammed his hand on the desk. "Paperwork and lightweight only. No fieldwork. Yanis, you have a family to get back to."

"This is bullshit!" I huffed loudly. "You're delaying the arrest of a suspect!"

"I won't say it again!" This time, his voice was much louder and he stood up. "Say another damned word about being back out in the field and I promise you, you'll be put on temporary leave. Out! Now!"

With the stress of last night still on my mind, I shuffled to my desk. Nothing seemed to go right.

After moping around for a moment, I became to glance down at the files in front of me, turning my head curiously. What was the connection between the victims? I just couldn't stop that question from running through my head. Who would want them dead? What was the message here?

Then I began to dig.

Somehow I had winded up inside of the evidence locker, going over everything that had been found. As I became lost in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed that someone was sneaking up on me.

"Oden?" I turned on my heels, hand on my pistol out of instinct. Blu raised his hands, surrendering. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle." I nodded, turning back around to slowly pick through any evidence that we possibly looked over.

"Drinking on the job," He joked, motioning towards the few empty beer cans on my desk. Anything to distract my mind from wandering to the thought of sex—that relief was going to have to wait. "But, it's getting late. I think you should wrap up and head home." Blu cleared his throat.

"Have you brought anyone into interrogation?" For us to be partners, our communication was terrible most times.

"Oden." Blu sighed, plopping down in my chair. "Did you hear me?" He repeated. I turned around again, finally setting my eyes on him. He looked burnt out—his bags were prominent and his eyes focused on the floor as he fiddled with his fingers. Blu sported a casual button up, khaki slacks with his gun resting on his side. The man exhaled, massaging his right temple.

"This needs to be solved." I replied sternly.

"Oden."

"Was this tested for prints?" I picked up the used lipstick with my gloved hand. He quirked his eyebrow for a moment before responding.

"Jane Doe's."

"But has it been tested? It says it was found in the stairway with the body," I inquired.

"No, Oden."

"Get this tested, ASAP." I ordered. These techs were fucking lazy. "Fuckin' ridiculous." I mumbled.

"I feel like you need to take it easy." Blu ordered, standing up. His hands rested his hips and his features hardened with annoyance. I scoffed at his demeanor.

"I feel like you're taking it too easy."

"Excuse me?" Blu's eyebrows furrowed and he frowned before aggressively pushing the chair back. He clenched his fists. "You're the one spending nights here to keep away from home! You don't care about this case any more than I do—these ghetto Ted Bundys are going to keep plowing through their own communities while the bodies pile on our laps." I cringed. How could he say such a thing?

He continued. "You're dead weight on my back, let's get that straight. And me?" Blu pointed at himself. "I'm the star of the show! I drown myself in work, day in and fucking out," He slurred, barely making any sense. I wasn't the only one who had been drinking on the job. "You're just an asshat from a few counties over trying to hide his dirty laundry—someone who probably screwed the wrong hooker or ran your mouth to the wrong person." The insults usually would roll off my shoulder but this time they were different.

I was actually trying this time. I was trying to do what I felt was right. For Victoria, for Ava, Jude, Blu, Lieutenant, my father. Everyone.

I was trying to do right by everyone I'd wronged and my efforts were futile.

Maybe if Victoria saw how hard I was stressed, she would see my drive and take it easy. If Blu saw my dedication, he would accept me as his partner. If Ava and Jude realized that in my absence, I was making the world safer for them, they would unconditionally love me as their father.

I sucked in air, at a loss for words at my partner's words. He huffed angrily, waiting for me to throw insults back. He was as burnt out as I was.

After all, drunk words are only sober thoughts. If he thought I was a fuck up, so be it. "You think you're better than me? Get over yourself," I said. "Look at your ass, drunk and irate, just like me. We're more alike than you think, Blu. But your ego won't allow you see that," I chuckled, watching him clench his fists yet again. "You don't know me and you don't have to like me as well but the victims of these 'ghetto Ted Bundys' deserve closure. And if that's how you feel as lead detective on this case, I think you should resign."

The taller man shoved me before yelling in response. "You don't know shit!" I stumbled, knocking into the edge of the desk which caused the evidence to scatter across the floor.

Our eyes followed the trail of miscellaneous items, and landed on the same thing.

A receipt from Lucky Cheng's.