From my desk, I watch her walk back into the squad room and set a cardboard box on top of the empty desk. She starts piling things out of the box (a plaque with her name on it, a framed photo, an external hard drive, three journals, a blue wireless keyboard and a blue-and-white key lanyard. She has had that lanyard since the Academy.
When the box is empty, she tosses it under the desk and takes a seat, pressing the power button on the monitor.
Yes, I realize I am staring and she might punch me if she caught me, but I cannot help it. My eyes seem to wander to her every time I try to focus on the report I am supposed to be writing. When she sinks in her seat and takes out her phone, I drag my eyes off her and focus on the screen in front of me.
The rest of the unit (Ian, Leonard and James) are crowded around Leonard's desk. They are talking, not so quietly, about how much they do not want to work with Jocelynn Sanchez. I do not understand their reluctance to work with the sharpest detective in the entire building. She has proven over and over that she belongs her, more so then they have.
Ian catches my eyes and shakes his head before excusing himself from the conversation and sauntering over. He plops into the seat next to my desk and smiles that big, goofy grin at me.
"What?"
"You are one lucky son of a bitch," he says, shaking his head with pure amusement.
"What are you talking about?"
"You finally get to work with her," he tells me. "After all these years of wishing and waiting, it's finally happening,"
"She hates me," I remind him.
"It's Sanchez. She hates everyone," he says around a laugh. "She especially hates your friends, but who can blame her? They're fucking horrible,"
"I know,"
"Hey, maybe she'll see that you're not like them and fall in love with you, and you two will live happily every after," he says with a grin.
I toss my pen at his forehead. "Get back to work," I say to him. "Find out if we have anything on the burnt medal we found at the crime scene,"
With a nod, he pushes out of the chair and walks out of the room. My eyes involuntarily go back to Jocelynn Sanchez. She is typing on her keyboard, her eyes narrowed at her screen. I wonder if she is working on this morning's case, or a case she was working before she was transfered.
It is clear in her expression as well as her posture that she hates this. She does not want to be here. I wish there were something I could do to make it bearable. An hour after she sits down, I've gotten through the report of the case so far, cataloguing all the evidence we've discovered.
Deciding to take a break and check on our autopsy, I push out of my seat. Ian is with James, trying to figure out who our John Doe is. Without fingerprints or a DNA analysis, I am not sure how he is planning on achieving that goal, but hopefully he's not wasting his tine chasing down useless leads.
I make my way to Sanchez's desk. If we are to work together, we should at least speak. I do not know how I am going to pull that off. The woman does not speak to anyone, least of all my team. She and I have had a total of one conversation in the time we have known each other, and that was during our time in the Academy.
Her desk is across from Ian's. The previous occupant, also a woman, transfered to Vice a week ago.
Trying not to startle her, I rap my knuckles on the top of her desk in a soft knock. When she looks up, her brows furrow slightly, like me being here is confusing.
"Hi," I say to her with a smile.
"Hello,"
I straighten my coat. "I am heading out for coffee. Would you like me to get you boba?"
The crease in her forehead deepens. "You want to get me boba?" she asks, her mild Spanish accent slipping out.
"If you want me to," I say with a nod. "I am already going out and I figured you would want one,"
Her hesitation lasts a lifetime. Her deep brown eyes pierce mine as she takes two whole minutes to come to a decision.
"Okay, sure," she finally says, reaching into her jacket's pocket for what is undoubtedly her wallet.
"There is no need. It is my treat," I tell her.
"No, that's okay," she says, pulling a five dollar bill from her wallet.
"No, I will pay for it. It is one boba. Do not worry about it,"
She slants her head at me. "Why would you do that?"
"I want to," I tell her with a smile. "Consider it an apology for my team's behaviour earlier,"
She hesitates once more, appearing to have an internal battle with herself. "Okay, fine. Thank you,"
"It is my pleasure,"
Before heading out of the building, I head down to the morgue to check on our autopsy. Emory informs me that she will have the report ready by the time I get back. She also mentions that she is sending a blood sample to the lab for analysis, as well as the victim's fingerprints to be ran through our database.
Leaving her, I make the drive to a coffee shop five minutes from the precinct. We have coffee in our building, but it honestly tastes like shit. When I have my coffee, I drive to Sanchez's favorite bubble tea place to get the one thing that might put her in a better mood right now.
For the second time today, we are in the captain's office. It feels like we have been called into the principal's office to be reprimanded for fighting. Captain Baker wears a scowl of disapproval and disappointment as he looks at James. When his eyes rest on the woman sitting beside me, his eyes soften and fill with concern. "What was that?" he asks, swinging his angry gaze back on James. "She punched me," he says, his words slightly muffled by the ice pack pressed to his face. Baker looks back to Sanchez. "Jocelynn?"Wait. He addresses her by her first name? That is strange. "He wanted to know if I punch like a girl," she says, shaking her head. "Did you need to demonstrate?""Yes,"From the look they exchange, it is clear that the two of them are familiars. They know each other outside of this building. What kind of relationship they could have is beyond me, though. He slants his head at her, and she rolls her eyes, both of them pissed off and defeated. "I remember saying some
I step through the doors to Emmy's lab and wonder why she couldn't have taken a job in Forensics or Cyber Crimes. Instead, in order to see my best friend, I have to walk through these doors every day. The smell is enough to make me gag each time. She's sitting at the back of the room, staring into a microscope and taking notes on the little notepad next to her. "Hey," I say, walking through the room and bypassing a man in an identical coat to hers. Her head snaps up and she beams at me. "Hi," she says, turning in her seat. Her brows pull together as she studies my face. "What's the matter?"I shake my head and walk over, taking a seat in the chair next to hers. "I got transfered,""What?" she asks, a smile on her face. "That's a good thing, right? No more of Jonas's bullshit. Why don't you look happy about this?""To Homicide,"The smile is wiped from her face. "No," she says quietly, shaking her head. "Yeah,""Oh my god, why?""Baker says it'll be a good image to show the state,
From my desk, I watch her walk back into the squad room and set a cardboard box on top of the empty desk. She starts piling things out of the box (a plaque with her name on it, a framed photo, an external hard drive, three journals, a blue wireless keyboard and a blue-and-white key lanyard. She has had that lanyard since the Academy. When the box is empty, she tosses it under the desk and takes a seat, pressing the power button on the monitor. Yes, I realize I am staring and she might punch me if she caught me, but I cannot help it. My eyes seem to wander to her every time I try to focus on the report I am supposed to be writing. When she sinks in her seat and takes out her phone, I drag my eyes off her and focus on the screen in front of me. The rest of the unit (Ian, Leonard and James) are crowded around Leonard's desk. They are talking, not so quietly, about how much they do not want to work with Jocelynn Sanchez. I do not understand their reluctance to work with the sharpest de
I was called awake for this at three this morning. When I arrived at the scene, I stayed as far from the body as possible and focued on scoping the rest of the area. I'm a narcotics detective, so I was unsure of why I was called in for a homicide case. That was until I saw our captain at the scene. He informed me that his Homicide team has suspicions that the murder is gang related. We in Narcotics haven't gotten wind of anything like it, and I don't think that the idiots in Homicide know more than we do about New York gangs.What I found on the scene was nothing out of the ordinary for a typical homicide. Yes, it was clear that the murder was premeditated and that whoever did it had to have been seriously motivated. But nothing about the crime scene screamed 'related to narcotics' to me. I leave the scene after the body is hauled into Emory's truck and she and her team take off. If this is related to Narcotics, our medical examiner will find it. "Detective Sanchez," someone calls.
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 bod