“And I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, but someone else’s twins were just found in a dumpster.” He tried to say it low just in case there were children around.
Ivy’s disposition suddenly changed. Children?
Moss’s chimed in. “Need me to ride with, man?” he ask ed, stepping away from his wife.
Nicola ran a hand through his tousled black locks and gritted his teeth. He could feel the tension from all the women permeating the room. “No, man. Thanks. If you could, just keep an eye out here for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“You aren’t even going to wait to sing ha ppy birthday?” Ivy whined, voice pitched high.
“We…we have to make it quick,” Nicola said, disappointed in himself for having to leave. He looked at his watch impatiently.
Quickly, Ivy ran out of the room, calling the kids together as fast as she could. He could hear the desperation in her voice, the need to cry but the will to keep it buried down with the rest of the crap that he had put her through.
“She’ll be okay, man. You gotta do what you gotta do,” Moss reassured in a low voice. He nodded at Nicola, trying to make him feel better.
Nicola barely blinked. “Try to explain that to the kids.”
2
The rain had not let up a bit by the time that Nicola arrived at the scene of the crime. It was only about ten minutes away - a little over five miles-from his house - at Overton Park, a well-known place for families to take their children, dog walkers to take their animals and couples to come for romantic picnics. Only today, there was nothing harmonious about the setting.
Pulling up in his black Escalade, he turned off his truck and watched from the window as the hordes of policeman ran through the raging storm to a garbage dump in the back of the park pushed up against an old fence, adjacent to the Memphis Zoo.
His headlights shined on the green, banged up dumpster about ten feet away. Rust had eroded the sides of the container away and large cockroaches crawled out of the bottom and fell into the pool of dirty water below it.
Several trash bags had been pulled out and set side-by-side on the concrete - marked in orange as EVIDENCE. And based upon the uniformed officers who were not used to the smell of decaying bodies, the putrid odor of rotting carcasses was overwhelming even in the open air.
An uncanny nervousness swept over Nicola, making his stomach clench tight as he watched. Sure he had seen plenty of bodies over his career, but there was something very disturbing about seeing a child that had been mutilated, raped and murdered.
Every time that he was forced to view one, the image burned indelibly into the back of his mind and haunted him for weeks. He could see it in his sleep, when he daydreamed, when he blinked. This was the hardest part of the job.
Stepping out in the rain, boots landing in a puddle of mud and grime, he pulled his badge from under his damp t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame and let it hang like a dog tag on his chest. The gleaming gold of the badge against black leather caught the reflection of the streetlight and gleamed in the gloomy setting.
The cold rain beat against his body as he stalked over past the onlookers and ducked under the yellow police tape, crossing into the restricted scene of the crime.
“What’s up, Agosto,” homicide detective Luke Johnson said with a handkerchief over his mouth, looking up from the top of the dumpster.
Detective Luke Johnson was an ethnic enigma. Fair-colored, deep-set brown eyes, arched black brows, bald head, muscular body and deep voiced, he was a mirror image of Vin Diesel in build and appearance, and he had never once told anyone if he was black, white or other . As far as anyone knew, he was just Johnson, and Agosto figured he liked it that way.
“Nothing i s up, man,” Nicola said walking over.
“I heard about the demotion,” Johnson ad ded with a smirk. “What? You didn’t like being a
Ivy’s disposition suddenly changed. Children?
Moss’s chimed in. “Need me to ride with, man?” he ask ed, stepping away from his wife.
Nicola ran a hand through his tousled black locks and gritted his teeth. He could feel the tension from all the women permeating the room. “No, man. Thanks. If you could, just keep an eye out here for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“You aren’t even going to wait to sing ha ppy birthday?” Ivy whined, voice pitched high.
“We…we have to make it quick,” Nicola said, disappointed in himself for having to leave. He looked at his watch impatiently.
Quickly, Ivy ran out of the room, calling the kids together as fast as she could. He could hear the desperation in her voice, the need to cry but the will to keep it buried down with the rest of the crap that he had put her through.
“She’ll be okay, man. You gotta do what you gotta do,” Moss reassured in a low voice. He nodded at Nicola, trying to make him feel better.
Nicola barely blinked. “Try to explain that to the kids.”
2
The rain had not let up a bit by the time that Nicola arrived at the scene of the crime. It was only about ten minutes away - a little over five miles-from his house - at Overton Park, a well-known place for families to take their children, dog walkers to take their animals and couples to come for romantic picnics. Only today, there was nothing harmonious about the setting.
Pulling up in his black Escalade, he turned off his truck and watched from the window as the hordes of policeman ran through the raging storm to a garbage dump in the back of the park pushed up against an old fence, adjacent to the Memphis Zoo.
His headlights shined on the green, banged up dumpster about ten feet away. Rust had eroded the sides of the container away and large cockroaches crawled out of the bottom and fell into the pool of dirty water below it.
Several trash bags had been pulled out and set side-by-side on the concrete - marked in orange as EVIDENCE. And based upon the uniformed officers who were not used to the smell of decaying bodies, the putrid odor of rotting carcasses was overwhelming even in the open air.
An uncanny nervousness swept over Nicola, making his stomach clench tight as he watched. Sure he had seen plenty of bodies over his career, but there was something very disturbing about seeing a child that had been mutilated, raped and murdered.
Every time that he was forced to view one, the image burned indelibly into the back of his mind and haunted him for weeks. He could see it in his sleep, when he daydreamed, when he blinked. This was the hardest part of the job.
Stepping out in the rain, boots landing in a puddle of mud and grime, he pulled his badge from under his damp t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame and let it hang like a dog tag on his chest. The gleaming gold of the badge against black leather caught the reflection of the streetlight and gleamed in the gloomy setting.
The cold rain beat against his body as he stalked over past the onlookers and ducked under the yellow police tape, crossing into the restricted scene of the crime.
“What’s up, Agosto,” homicide detective Luke Johnson said with a handkerchief over his mouth, looking up from the top of the dumpster.
Detective Luke Johnson was an ethnic enigma. Fair-colored, deep-set brown eyes, arched black brows, bald head, muscular body and deep voiced, he was a mirror image of Vin Diesel in build and appearance, and he had never once told anyone if he was black, white or other . As far as anyone knew, he was just Johnson, and Agosto figured he liked it that way.
“Nothing i s up, man,” Nicola said walking over.
“I heard about the demotion,” Johnson ad ded with a smirk. “What? You didn’t like being a
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