A Girl Named Sam

Intro

                           
A Girl Named Sam

Origins

    I passed through the living room. Following Lidia as she attempted to both reassure me and explain the situation I now found myself in.
    "I think you may be a surrogate for this unsub."
    I barely heard Lidia's voice.
    "A what?" I replied.
    I looked into her eyes. As a PI I had seen my share of cops but very few federal agents. Lidia seemed to be nice enough though and not as rigid as Daryl was. Her dress was nothing flashy. She wore black slacks, a blue button up blouse, her wavy hair up in a neat ponytail.
    Before I could say anything more Daryl appeared at her side like some kind of disembodied shadow. In spite of his size he knew how to move in a way that evaded my immediate awareness. He glanced at me with concern.
    "Why don't we talk over there." Indicating the adjacent kitchen with a sort of sideways head movement.
    I followed behind Lidia as he glanced over his shoulder.
    "Tell me what you think?" He asked Lidia.
    Our little trio had made it toward the kitchen sink, stopping so she could respond to him face to face.
    "The marks on the neck indicate the unsub used the belt we found next to the body as a ligature."
    "Could be a handicap or physical weakness." Daryl said thoughtfully as he took a step back for the passing coroner.
    I was suddenly disturbed by the lack of emotion in the way they talked. It felt way too clinical. As if this person was suddenly stripped of all humanity. And all that was left was a body, nothing more.
    "Why are you talking about her like that?"
    They paused. had a similar reaction. However, Lidia's expression was softer and more sympathetic. It wasn't just her face though. I could see it in her eyes. The pair glanced at each other in understanding. She piped up first.
"Sorry, sometimes Daryl and I forget."
They nodded in agreement.
"You're a private investigator, right?" Daryl asked.
"Yeah." I responded, rubbing my eyes.
"Have you ever seen a dead body before?"
"No, not really." I replied somberly.
    Daryl opened his mouth to speak however, a shorter, younger looking guy approached him with what appeared to be a small evidence bag. Daryl regarded him with a respectful nod.
"What did you find?" He asked.
"It's a hair we found on the victim, could belong to your suspect."
    The expression on their faces both suggested a small measure of relief.
I knew enough from my own experience and cop dramas that the DNA in a hair could be analyzed and linked to a suspect. It was a good thing that could break a case, assuming the perp even had a record. If not the case could linger on or possibly remain unsolved, eventually added to an endless stack of other cold cases.
    "That's a bit of good luck." Lidia chimed in.
    I nodded then glanced at the microwave and the bright green numbers that could easily be seen from where I was standing. I was running short on time. I still had a client to tend to before the day was over.
"Do you guys still need me here?" I asked, eager to put distance between myself and the corpse in the other room.
"No, you're good to go." Daryl replied.
   What should have been a simple visit to a potentially cheating spouse ended with me stumbling upon the deceased. From where I was parked on the street I could see that the front door was ajar and on the verge of swinging open due to the breeze that now whipped up my shoulder length hair. I couldn't resist my natural instinct to investigate. Which I wished I had ignored. But as far as I could tell there was no real way to know if this person was really after me or if it was just coincidence. I thoughtfully pulled Lidia's calling card out of my pocket, wondering if I should hold onto it as I may never see her again. After all the identity of the perp could be quickly discovered, resulting in their immediate arrest, and prompt delivery into some God awful prison. Then again, what if I was wrong.
    I returned to my apartment, pulled a beer out of the fridge and glanced at the calendar on my wall, which marked the length of days I had been on hormone replacement therapy, as I had been born male. My gaze then shifted to the magazine cover with my picture on it. I was never used to being the center of attention. After a while I had grown weary of it and wanted to start over. So, I went back to a life where I could live like everyone else. Maybe some people were disappointed that I didn't go farther. That I didn't end up in Paris or New York. It was a life of my choosing though. Where I felt happy and content. And now all I really wanted besides a steady job was the gift of motherhood. To have a child of my own flesh and blood. A life partner and family of my own. Shortly after I finished my beer I pulled my sheets back, sat on the bed, then bowed my head in prayer.
    "God, I pray that you would keep me safe and continue to bless Amanda. And I pray you would continue to keep me strong. So I can keep doing my work as a PI."