Shadows In Blue

A body lies at my feet, covered in blood. Bullet holes in the chest, abdomen and shoulder. I do not need to be closer to tell that this victim was strangled before he was shot repeatedly. Early mornings like these make me question why I chose this career, but I would not trade it for anything in the world. 

Sirens sound from behind me and I can hear the chaos start to unfurl as civillians swarm the crime scene, reporters hot on our trail. 

I turn to Ian. "What do you see?" I ask, pulling my hand out of the pocket of my jacket. 

He shakes his head with a grimace. "Blood, Andi. I see a lot of blood,"

"I meant about the crime," 

Clearing his throat, he amends his answer. "Strangulation, bondage around the wrists, and a whole lot of gunshots,"

I nod. "Whoever did this was pretty pissed off,"

"I'd say way more than pissed off, but yeah,"

"Detective Smirnov," someone calls. I turn to see one of the CSI techs waving me over. "Could you take a look at this, please?"

Stepping away from the body and Ian, I head for the tech, who is standing over a piece of charred metal. I strain to figure out what it is, the item clearly having been burnt to the point of unrecognition. On purpose. 

"It's a gun," a feminine voice says from behind me.

I know that voice. 

My head spins and a woman stands in front of me. THE woman. 

"Detective Sanches?" I ask before I can stop myself. 

She walks past me, looking at the piece of metal on the ground. "It's been melted. That's your murder weapon. What's left of it anyway,"

"How can you tell?" the tech asks, a slight tremble in his voice. He knows her too. 

She gives him a quick once over before saying, "Trust me, that's your murder weapon,"

He nods, not daring to argue with her. No one with half a brain would argue with Jocelynn Sanches. The woman is a force to be reckoned with. Everyone, colleagues and criminals alike, are terrified to death of her. I would be lying if I said I was not one of them. 

What I am wondering is what she is doing here. Homicide is a division that consists mostly of men. The only female detective who had ever dared to work with us asked to be reassigned after two weeks. And there is no way in hell Jocelynn Sanches would choose to work in this division. 

She turns on her heels, walking away from me. I slip on a pair of latex gloves and pick up the metal object, knowing better than to question her judgement. If she says this is a gun, our murder weapon, then that is what it is. 

I hold it toward the CSI tech, who is holding a plastic bag for me to deposit it into. Taking the bag, he makes his way to one of his co-workers. As they continue to look for evidence, I head back to Ian and we try to piece together the details of this heinous crime. 

Ligature marks and bullet holes suggest that whoever killed our victim was extremely pissed off when they did it. This was no random act of violence. Perhaps a drug deal gone wrong. Perhaps a war between two drug gangs. 

That would explain why Sanches is here. She is the best detective in Narcotics. 

When, Emory Michaels, our medical examiner, hauls our body into her truck with her team, Ian and I take my car back to the station. It takes a while because we have to wade through camera crews and civilians demanding answers about why there was such a brutal murder in their neighborhood. 

From my car, I spot Sanches still on the scene, standing far from where the murder took place. Only, she is not alone. Our captain is with her. I was unaware that he was even here. He rarely shows up at crime scenes. But they are talking, and it does not look like either of them is very happy with the conversation. 

"Holy shit. Is that Jocelynn Sanches?" Ian asks me. 

I nod. "The one and only,"

"What is she doing here? Is this case tied to something in Narcos?" 

"Perhaps," I say, absentmindedly still staring at the woman. "There was no identification on the victim, was there?"

"No,"

"We will have to wait for fingerprint analysis or blood work to come back,"

"Man, that could take days,"

"Then we find something else in the meantime,"

The road finally clears up and I push through, following the long line of traffic the police cruisers have caused.