Collaboration (closed)

[Tanned_babe]

“I mean, what’s this even about, Morgan? Yoga, on a Saturday night! And then what? When are you going to meet some people? You’ve been in New York for a year now. This was supposed to be a new start.”

Silence.

“Are you still there?!” Living in Texas for almost seventeen years had done little to mask Tracey Vincent’s Glaswegian drawl.

“Yes.” Morgan sighed sadly into her iPhone.

“I just don’t want you…” I just don’t want you to be lonely, your job is hard, you need to talk to people about it. You need meet someone else. You need to be happy. You need, you need, you need, you need. The thirty year old had heard it all before. Taking a deep breath, she cut through the ‘helpful’ tirade.

“I need to go, Mum, my class is starting soon. Speak to you next week sometime.” With that she hung up and made her way into Hot Tangerine Yoga in an attempt to destress from both the week and now that phone call.

Bikram, combined with a cycle to her spacious apartment in Williamsburg had been enough to relax the tall brunette, allowing her a few content hours. Sitting out on her fire escape with a glass of white wine Roebling Street was peaceful enough to trick you. Trick one into thinking that this place, this city was improving, gentrification was lessening the trafficking of women, the latest raw Michelin restaurant meant the murder rate was decreasing. However, despite the serenity of the Brownstones glowing in the summer sunset Dr Morgan Vincent knew the truth.

Originally from Scotland, Morgan had emigrated with her parents in 2001. Her Dad’s skill set was in demand in Houston and judging by their quality of life he was well compensated. Despite this, Houston had been a culture shock for the teenager, but as teenagers do, she adapted. Attending a good school ensured she got the qualifications to study medicine in San Francisco, where a series of events led her to Forensic Pathology.

In 2015 Dr Vincent published a paper which analysed the importance of and the best way to heavily involve a local medical examiner when investigating complex cases. The paper was extremely well received on a National scale, with watertight findings regarding the benefits of collaboration. And by 2016 Morgan had been headhunted by NYPD. The move came at a time when the then 28 year old needed a change of scenery; otherwise the thought of leaving her academic bubble would have proved a little too daunting. The Scot had been propelled into the Force’s limelight and although she had exceeded any expectations, there was most certainly a culture where, if you had not risen up the ranks you did not belong.

The simultaneous bleep of her archaic pager and ring of her work cell phone woke Morgan. “Dr Vincent.” She answered, not waiting for the explanation before untangling her long bare legs from the bedsheet and stepping onto the hardwood flooring.

“We have a 10-4, ma’am.”

“Where?”

“699 9th Ave. Car will be there in 5 minutes, ma’am.”

Morgan hung up; adrenaline beginning to course through her system as she simultaneously brushed her teeth and pulled on a pair of tight black jeans. Hell’s Kitchen, near Broadway, white male. It was unusual for sure. She finished dressing, a black turtle-neck which unintentionally displayed her modest curves, that was until she wrapped in a tanned Burberry trench coat. Completing the ensemble with a pair of brown leather Chelsea boots and almost matching medical bag, Dr Vincent left her apartment.

Having rushed down the four flights of stairs, she was spat into the cool night air. It was 04:43, the car, if it had arrived on time should have been waiting for her. She sighed, her breath misting slightly. Could they do nothing correctly? She occupied herself for the next two minutes, checked her cell phone, tied her long glossy hair into a top knot and double checked the front door was locked. Finally an unmarked car pulled up. Having checked the driver’s ID she entered.

The speeding BMW, light traffic and ad hoc use of blue lights meant that Morgan was at the scene in just over quarter of an hour. Stepping out of the car she curtly thanked the driver and strode towards the alley way. She brushed past a crowd of onlookers, not that they could see anything from their vantage point. Why did people do that? Morgan’s job had her staring into cold dead eyes on a daily basis and it’s not something that ever leaves you, seeing your first body. So why did these onlookers want to do so variably?

Stepping up to one of the officers monitoring the cordoned off area the thirty year old did not wait to be asked who she was. Whipping out her ID, she handed it to the portly middle aged man and went to move under the tape. To her annoyance he placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from ducking under. “Just one moment, Ma’am, I gotta check this proper.”

Brushing his greasy hand off her shoulder, “I’m the medical examiner.” She snarled, before moving into the crime scene.

“Just doing my job, Ma’am.” He spat.

“As was I, two months ago when you monitored a scene in The Upper East Side. Learn who your colleagues are and we’ll all save a bit of time.”

She didn’t wait for a response before heading further into the alleyway. Taking in every detail, there was little that distinguished the potholed corridor from any other of its natures; litter, puddles of non-descript liquid, dumpsters. This was until one reached the officers huddled round the dead body. Out of the bustling crowd stepped Detective Finch. “Dr Vincent.” He nodded, gripping her hand tightly.

“Detective Finch. When did you arrive?”

“Officers on the scene within minutes after the boy was found, so the scene’s been well sealed.”

“When did you arrive?”

“Twenty-five minutes ago, Doctor.”

“Anyone go near him?”

“Officers did not go near the body, no.” He said defensively. “My boy’s are trained well.”

“Glad to hear it. Tell them to give me some space, please. And Detective, is it just yourself here?”

“Lieutenant, Rosenburg’s here doing initial interviews with the first officer on the scene. You heard the Doc, let her do her job so we can get this mess cleared up before the Sunday Brunchers make an appearance.”

It’s a sorry state of affairs when the Medical Examiner arrives and isnt greeted by the Lieutenant, Morgan thought to herself as she shrugged off her trench coat and handed it to an officer. Having snapped on her latex gloves she grabbed her torch and moved closer to the body. He had been propped up against the wall with some refuge bags placed around and on him. He was hidden, yet not well so. Having taken the necessary photo’s, Morgan couldn’t do much more without moving the bags. At first glance they contained merely trash, however she gave the instruction to tag and remove them for further investigation. It was not the first time a crucial piece of evidence had been carelessly disposed of.

Now, her and other crime scene attendees could get a good look at the young man. He was thin with sunken cheeks and sandy hair which hung around his shoulders. Early twenties if he was lucky. His ripped white t shirt was stained with vomit and his wholey jeans looked worn. It was a fashion statement though; he wasn’t poor. Not unless he had stolen the almost new Doctor Marten boots. The killer hadn’t taken a liking to them either. Morgan shifted her dark eyes back up the body; the fly of his jeans were undone, he wore a couple of thongs of leather around his wrist, the back of his hand was stamped two interlinking male symbols and his nails were painted purple. “You poor bastard.” Dr Vincent sighed.

“I knew this is what it would be.” She could hear an officer mutter. “Everyone’s out here, wasting their time on some Stonewall Sally, who’s whored himself out for a hit. Look at the fucking state of it!”

“Wait a minute, Tavis!” A female voice interjected. Morgan continued to appear to examine the body. If the girl wanted to take down the NYPD’s homophobia who was Doctor Vincent to stop her? “He’s a student! You shouldn’t be so dismissive, just because of people’s appearance.”

“How do you know he’s a student, Officer?” Morgan asked in a tight voice.

“Ah well, she must have-“

“I’m not asking you, Detective.” Morgain said plainly, not breaking eye contact with the, most likely, cadet. “How do you know he’s a student?”

The blonde girl stammered. “His wallet was on the ground, Ma’am.”

“Was it?” Morgan said skeptically, raising a perfectly waxed eyebrow.

“Eh, well, no, Ma’am. It was-“ Morgan’s eye’s bored into the poor girl. “His pocket, Ma’am. Doctor, sorry. I, we, had a look.” At that moment there was an audible grown from several other officers and the girl clamped up, looking at her feet.

“Please remove yourself from the scene and take any other’s who tampered wit it with you.”

“Now, Morgan, that’s not really your place!” Finch flared.

“It isn’t but you seem incapable of managing your squad.” She snapped, her Scottish accent coming through in the heat of the moment.

The middle aged man was about to retort when a female voice cut through the tension and demanded an explanation. Instantly, Finch began rabbiting updates regarding the evening, missing out detail of the tampered evidence. It was so typical of the police force to automatically assume that a death in a gay neighborhood was just that. ‘Gays have more rights than us these days.’ ‘Can’t sneeze these days without getting hit with a discrimination warning.’ ‘Why don’t we get a straight pride?’

Morgan hated it! Not that officers would be brave enough to say all this within earshot if they knew she was gay. Of course, she never had reason to ‘come out’, as it were within her new job. Her job ensured she regularly worked 18 hour days and rising in the middle of the night was just normal, so when did she have time to go out? Why would she want to spend more time with the Police? In terms of her study that landed her this position, the brunette really didn’t practice what she preached.

Hearing the detective finish stammering the light version of the evening’s proceedings, Morgan turned from photographing the body. Standing straight the Lieutenant had a good few inches on her. If Morgan hadn’t been standing in a dank alley way at 4am with a tampered, probably, murder scene she would have allowed herself a moment’s appreciation of the figure before her. Dark red hair, well-proportioned and striking features balanced ticked anyone’s boxes. “Doctor Vincent.” She said unsmiling, extending a now latex powdered hand. “Can I have a word, please?”

Away from the officers, Morgan spoke in a quiet, yet formidable voice. “Lieutenant, you need to pull your team into line!” She snapped, before recounting the homophobic commentary and wallet. “You have an unsupervised cadet, of at least that’s all she is I hope, toying with a body. There’s been rubbish bags moved, possibly the body itself and a wallet examined! Now, that’s bad enough, but someone in your charge knew they shouldn’t be doing this and tried to cover it back up! What kind of operation are you running here?! You know how fucking difficult it is to prove cases where prior events have been somewhat hedonistic let alone throwing the fact the victim’s queer into the mix!”

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Leah was further into the alley interviewing one of responding officers, taking notes in a worn out leather notebook holder that had clearly been through hell and back.

She was a tall, beautiful woman with long legs and generous curves, looking altogether too comfortable, confident in her naturally tanned skin. She was wearing a brown suede bomber's jacket over a plain white men's tee, her badge hanging loose around her neck. Black pants and brown, long boots-boots that made her even taller than her 5 feet, 10 inches-seemed to accentuate those toned, long legs even further.

She had dark red hair pulled into a low ponytail over one shoulder, and she was chewing gum. The occasional flash of baby pink contrasted with the dark red lipstick she always seemed to wear. She saw and heard the Medical Examiner roll up, but she wanted the officer's recollection while it was crisp, fresh-and unaffected by the uncanny human tendancy to utterly fuck up one's own memories. She hadn't even really spoken to Finch yet.

"And that's when I checked his pockets to see who he was."
"You confirmed he was dead." Leah pressed, her jaw still, no gum chewing now.
"Yes."
"So you knew he was dead...and then you tampered with a body?" The police officer blinked, but before he could stammer out much, Leah heard part of the commotion in the ring of police, talk she had been tuning out, for the most part.

Holding a finger up for the guy to stay there, she strode into the mix, right up to Finch. "What's this about wallet pilfering?" Leah inquired, light hearted enough-but her lips were pursed. Finch rambled through much of what she already knew from the first officer, but Leah didn't let him off that easy.

"Right, right, I got all that, thank you-what about the wallet?" She pointed to the blonde girl and beckoned her over. Before he could stammer much else or she could get a fix on the kid Leah's attention was diverted to the medical examiner. A woman Leah had seen here and there-but mostly heard about.

She cast the hand a glance, then fixed Finch with a look.

"Why don't you and her go sit down and talk this over, hm? Get some blank incident reports and some pencils together for me?" She sounded congenial enough...but given the way Finch's shoulders slumped and he turned away without argument, one had to wonder.

Leah shook Dr. Vincient's hand with one of her graceful, slender ones, a brilliant smile-but her eye were weighing and calculating, the green flecked hazel irises looking to be almost brown in the dark alley. She seemed...amused?

She followed the good doctor a few paces away and, before she could even speak, said "You sure know how to make friends, Dr. Vincient."

She snapped her gum, crossing her arms under her chest as Morgan went into her tirade, looking down at the slender woman, her expression briefly unreadable as she let the Doctor hiss along.

She cast a glance back towards the body, frowning. The homophobic nature of the blue curtain was a problem. She could agree with the woman there. It was also problematic that the crime scene had been tampered with. Leah saw no reason to include that in the paperwork. It'd only weaken their case, if they could get one for the poor man.

"Listen kid." She said, despite probably only being a few years older, at 32. "I know exactly what kind of operation I'm running. And it'd run a lot smoother if you played a bit nicer with the boys."

She snapped her gum again. She would deal with both of these issues. But she wasn't going to throw her men under the bus, and definitely not to appease any prissy newcomers.

Her eyes returned to the slightly smaller woman. She didn't know her very well-they hadn't worked on a case together before, though she'd heard of her, and certainly seen her around the precinct. Leah always noticed new, pretty faces. But pretty wasn't enough-Leah had carved her place here with blood, sweat and tears, and she wasn't going to be cow towing to Miss Priss.

"There's a chain of command here Doctor." Good God, listen to her! Leah was the last person to give a damn about that. "And you are not at the top of it. I don't care if you are 'smarter' than the rest of us." How could anybody look so friendly while being so sarcastic? Leah's eyes studied hers, taking in the temper no doubt reflected there.

"You're here to help me, got it? And what I want is to find out who killed this kid, and why. I don't give a damn what team he was playing for. I don't give a damn what half baked theories the men have. You do your job telling me what I need to know, and next time you have a problem with one of my officers let me take care of it, instead of being a woman terrorizing her "lessors"." Leah's expression darkened, a flare of her own temper.

And just as quickly, it was gone, a light hearted: "You'll find life's a lot easier with friends, doc." and an accompanying wink, snapping her gum a final time before she walked away.

"Line up boys-you've all earned a date with my notebook." She said to the gathered police officers, a glance towards Finch and the blonde police officer standing just outside the yellow tape, a pile of papers in hand, a fistful of pencils.

"Everybody grab a pencil and write down EXACTLY how you arrived, what you saw, and anything you remember happening from pulling up to picking up that pencil. Turn it in to Finch. Be through."

///////////////////////////

"Anything for me here Doc?" Leah asked the doctor, frowning at her notebook, rereading the notes she'd taken, statements, descriptions of the scene, that sort of thing.

She looked up in askance, a brow arched.

 

[Tanned_babe]

"We are here to work in parallel, Lieutenant and your team's job starts with the basics; secure the body. If you can't get that right, this." The doctor gestured at the space between the two women, "Isn't going to work."

Morgan knew Rosenberg wasn't wrong, they needed to work together, however the 30 year old was, as her line of work dictated, a stickler of detail. The judicial was proving harder to lock criminals up; not all criminals, petty thieves or migrants were easy, but those demographs didn't tend to be the real dangers. Not your mass murders, stalkers, rapists.

Not that this case, Morgan turned back to the pale figure propped up against the dirty wall, was screaming murder; if it wasn't for his colouring he could have been sleeping. However, unlike the force, Morgan wasn't about to write this off as a gay-boy overdose.

After another quarter of an hour of photographing, sampling and generally trying to piece together the possibilities - endless, the brunette was convinced she'd done all she could. Standing and stretching out her lean figure she retrieved her coat and proceeded to cover her cat-burglaresque outfit. Requesting an officer carry the bags of samples she'd taken, Dr. Vincent balanced her medical bag on one shoulder and a chunky DSLR on the other.

"Lieutenant?" She said tightly to, Leah. "Can I have him down to the morgue ASAP, please? If I can get this started before seven it'll save you waiting all day for any information, however, I'd bet it's the tox reports that will be the real interest which will be Tuesday at best. Still, sooner I get him on the table, sooner you get those."

Morgan thanked the attractive red head curtly and strode towards the state car that would take her to her offices. "Don't send anyone for results before ten AM, please. I'm without an assistant until nine."

Down town, the autopsy suite was eerily quiet at this time in the morning with only security and the odd officer bringing in another patient. Weekends were popular, Saturday in particular so Dr Vincent really was kicking herself for allowing her on call technologist the weekend off, when he had discovered 'last minute' that his girlfriend was graduating. Last time you do something nice, she thought to herself.

"You want me to stay with you, Doc?" The security guard who has accompanied the officers and body asked. He was visibly relieved when Morgan politely declined. "Don't know how you do it, Doc, especially on a Sunday. Page me if you need anything." And with that the older gentleman left hot on the heels of the cop.

Having had a strong black coffee and got into her scrubs, Morgan was ready to go and worked efficiently on the external examination. The body, once unclothed, showed almost no bruising, with the exception of slight swelling to the left forearm. This, the Doctor rationalised could be attributed to bumping into a passerby in the street or club. Fingernails showed no sign of a struggle either, however things got interesting when she turned the light out and ran a UV torch over the body; traces of semen were evident around the patient's chin and nose. Furthermore there were light scratches on the boy's chest, collar bone and stomach, "... akin to when one is thrust, clothed, against an abrasive surface." She dictated to the microphone in her breast pocket.

The hydraulics on table allowed Morgan to single handed lay turn the body where, with the exception of some scraping, possibly where he had been dragged to sit up against the wall the only note of interest was that the man had had rough sex, by choice or not was another matter. However, unlike the man's face there was no sign of bodily fluid. "It's almost as if you weren't awake for it." She muttered. "Don't type last sentence." She said into the microphone.

Taking of her gloves and mask, the elegant brunette removed her green mask and rubbed her eyes. She in equal parts liked and disliked the next stage. Having rewashed, Morgan held a stainless steel scalpel over the pale waxy flesh. Taking a breath she gently pressed down until she felt the body yield and the blade sink in. The Y incision ran from the shoulders, v-ing to the diaphragm before continuing down to the pubis. Satisfied with the cut, Morgan stood up straight to remove the rib cage when she was interrupted by a gentle knock at the door. Beckoning the Lieutenant to enter, Morgan pulled her face mask to around her neck.

"I'm afraid you're a bit early, Lieutenant. I'll still be an hour at least." She stated, her voice now not as tight; she was on home turf. Going to put the mask back on she stopped when Rosenberg offered to help. It probably made sense, there was always that initial rush upon discovering a body which usually proved somewhat futile until the autopsy was done.

Hesitating the Doctor finally answered. "If you go to the washroom round the corner I'll have the ribs out by the time you're scrubbed; we can bag and tag." Morgan didn't wait before turning back to the body, she wasn't intentionally being rude, the brunette just hated 'the pull'. Rib cages were fickle- they stuck where you wouldn't expect and could pull other organs with them. However, this boy had little muscle which helped and by the time, Rosenberg reappeared, Morgan was wrist deep, extracting a pale elastic bag. The neatly excavated stomach was placed in a metal dish and carried to a work bench by the doctor who, after a few moments turned back to the two people in the room. "Stomach contents suggests patient hasn't consumed a large volume of alcohol, if any." She said formally to the dictaphone before glancing at the Lieutenant and raising a perfectly waxed eyebrow, her dark eyes all the more striking when all other features were covered.

"Lieutenant Rosenberg has joined the autopsy at-" she glanced at the clock on the wall, "8:14. Please include this in the report." The cop had obviously done this before, Morgan thought as she watched her work; having been told where bags, tags, fridges, scales, etc. could be found the red head worked as well as any lab assistant and by ten am the examination was almost complete.

"I've just got the brain to do. Feel free to step out." Morgan said, concentrating on the delicate drill head she was applying.

"Why would I do that?"

For the first time, Leah was met with an albeit hidden smile, nonetheless, the expression reached, Morgan's eyes. "I thought you might say that." She said shaking her head before turning on the drill. The noise was akin to that of sawing metal on metal. People always asked about the rain direction: how do you get it out? Is the nose really involved? Their reactions tended to be that of shock if Morgan mentioned the drill, so she tended to leave out the bit about the chisel.

Ten minutes later she had put down the small tool and was delicately lifting the top of the patients skull. "First observations are normal." She said into the dictaphone, as was everything else to do with the organ.

Switching off the recording device, Morgan turned to her assistant. "Thanks for that. You've let me claw back a couple of hours." Can you stick those I the dishwasher in the room to the left, please? I'll clip him back up."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Leah drove in silence, thinking over the crime scene and what she knew so far. Bartender said the kid wasn’t drinking, ordering just a single glass of Coke on the outset. The kid had paid in change and was polite, but the bartender hadn’t seen him after that.

Leah didn’t think the tox report would show recreational drugs. People didn’t order Coke when they were trying to get fucked up. The 911 call had been male and spoke in a lowered hushed tone. The killer? Had he called out of remorse or for the thrill of discovery?

What had the kid been doing in the alleyway? A tryst with a charming stranger? Or perhaps someone he was already romantically involved with? It was usually someone the victim knew, but not always. Killings committed by strangers were less likely to be solved-not that Leah had a lot of unsolved cases in her filing cabinets.

Once Morgan had left and the body had been bagged and tagged, Leah had gone to talk to Finch. There’d be a seminar with the officers. Fucking with a crime scene, her crime scene, irritated her no less than it had Miss Priss.

The medical examiner was supposedly brilliant and highly sought after. Leah supposed she should count herself lucky to have the invaluable insight-but the good doctor seemed intent on alienating everyone she came into contact with. Leah had heard a story or two, here and there. And it wasn’t every day some uppity new comer tried to upbraid her.

She was pretty though, and you had to love a woman with brains. Though...that probably wasn’t a good train of thought to be having.

Hrm.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Leah didn’t particularly like the morgue. She wasn’t grossed out, exactly-she had seen some pretty gruesome crime scenes-but she found it a little unsettling, the cold dissection and scientific observation. It was less about the process and more about...death in general. She didn’t like to think about ending up here. She supposed no one did.

She was here to speed things along, as well as to offer Vincent an olive branch. The good doctor was abrasive, but she hadn’t been wrong. Still, she could stand to work on her social niceties Jesus.

Here though, even though she was all business, Miss Priss seemed a little less on edge. Leah had half expected to be chased out of the autopsy-not that she would have gone, mind you-but the doctor accepted her help. Leah even felt a hint of approval when she stayed for the last of it. Which was good, because that took a little extra steel than she had let on-but Leah wasn’t going to look like a coward in front of anyone, especially not a pretty woman like Dr. Vincent.

“Sure thing Doc.” Leah said amicably, genuinely wanting to be helpful. Might as well if she was here anyway. “Maybe you’ll let me have one of them, then..” She said of the hours before she disappeared into the next room.

Cleaned up and out of the morgue, Leah led the way not to her office-but outside and to her unmarked police cruiser, pausing behind the open car door when Morgan seemed surprised. “What? You thought I wanted to talk in my stuffy office? I walk in there, my secretary is going to flip out about all my unfinished paperwork. C’mon, let’s get some breakfast.” The tall red head ducked into the car, confidently assuming Morgan would join her without further convincing.

Leah took them to a hole in the wall sort of place-but once inside it was surprisingly clean and comfortable, if a little threadbare. She had carried in a file of some sort, but no purse. She slid into a booth, her graceful hands briefly on the table as she did so. She pulled out of her bomber jacket and removed the badge around her neck, turning to sit sideways in the booth, an arm across the back and her long legs crossed on the seat. The redhead was dressed rather plainly with pops of feminine, managing to look rather attractive without much effort. The usual, pretty much. White men’s t shirt tucked into black pants, those calf length boots of hers-and that red lipstick, of course. She carried a pistol in a brown leather shoulder holster. Usually she open carried around the station, but she preferred to conceal the weapon while out working a case.

In here, the flecks of green in her hazel irises were more apparent than they had been in the morgue, a dazzling display of color that complimented the rich, dark red color of her hair.

She ordered french toast with a side of hashbrowns and bacon. The waitress had already brought her a black coffee. While they waited, Leah looked across the table at her. The good doctor was damn near as tall as she was, which was impressive all on it’s own. Both of them were wearing boots-which easily put them on the same level, if not taller, than most of the men they worked alongside. It amused Leah that Morgan did that too. A lot of tall women tried to downplay their height as much as possible. Who knew what she’d think of breakfast. Maybe she was the smoothie/shake kind of gal. Kale and all that jazz. If so, hoped she liked oatmeal, cause everything else in this place was bad as hell for you.

“Leah.” She said, unsure if the good doctor knew her name or not. Most people at the station called her Lieutenant or, rather uncreatively in her opinion, Red-but she preferred Leah, at least with Dr. Vincent, and especially over what she hoped would be an amicable breakfast. “Read your paper, year or so ago.”

Weird she worked so hard to alienate just about everyone she worked with, given the published report. Leah pondered that a minute, then flopped the folder she’d brought in and slid it across the table. “This wasn’t my case, but it happened a few months ago. Another young patron of the gay bar-only he never made it out. Found dead in the restroom.” Leah tapped the table with a frown. “It never sat quite right with me, and the investigation was a little...lackluster. Straight A student, athlete, strong parental support-it was ruled accidental overdose, but a nice kid like that has better places to get high, if he’s getting high, than a fucking club bathroom.”

Leah looked uncharacteristically serious. “The kid in our case ordered a coke and no alcohol all night-and gets found dead in the alleyway. I’m more than a little impatient to get the tox results. Might call in a favor.” She frowned, a shake of her head. Such a waste. Both young men had probably been going places. Always such a Goddamned shame.

Leah sighed, taking a swig of the black coffee without adding anything to it. She was tired-hadn’t even been to sleep yet when she got the call. She worked more cases than other supervising officers-but she was a detective first and foremost, and everything else was mostly background noise. She was still more than a little miffed at Finch. She needed to be able to trust her own detectives, otherwise, how could she assured they were doing their own cases justice? She couldn’t babysit all of them, Christ.

“So. Any insight?”

 

[Tanned_babe]

Morgan wasn’t at all surprised at the breakfast joint of choice; police tended to have a habit of selecting the most run down joint in the area and colonizing it. When researching her career changing project, the elegant brunette had spent far too many hours in a bar in The Castro; there were no woman’s toilets and even through the place stunk of bleach your feet still stuck to the floor. Morgan was glad to see that this joint wasn’t quite that bad.

As she slunk into the booth she cast her eyes over Rosenberg as the Lieutenant took off her jacket. She was a good balance of fit physique, whilst maintaining a woman’s figure, despite it hiding under the unfitted t-shirt. She must get hounded terribly by her male colleagues, Morgan thought to herself. However, the cop seemed to have a ‘one of the boys’ attitude, maybe that kept the harassment at bay? Morgan doubted it. Little did and in her experience a cold shoulder which screamed her disinterest in being someone’s squeeze seemed to do the trick. There was another element to her research topic, however she’d leave that to the sociologists.

She shrugged off her Burberry trench coat as she ordered. “Two poached eggs on toast, please. Wholewheat if you’ve got it.” They didn’t, but at least they knew how to poach an egg. She thought she’d noticed a spark of amusement in Rosenbeg’s green, no hazel, she couldn’t decide, eyes.

“Morgan.” She offered back, before taking a drink of black coffee, at least it was strong. She was surprised, Leah had followed her research, raising a perfectly waxed eyebrow to show as mush, however was passed a folder before she had a chance to say anything.

There was no such thing as a free breakfast. However, she was glad, Leah was on this. One of her questions was going to be if NYPD had had any ‘overdose’ cases as such in the past year or two. Opening the case file with neatly manicured fingers, Morgan studied the details as, Leah spoke. “People can hide drug issues very well, Lieutenant.” Morgan said, not looking up from the report, “And a club bathroom is as good a place for any user to go. You know that.” Morgan was speaking from experience, half her medical class went out on weekends and dabbled in Cocaine, Ecstasy and the like. One bad pill was all it took. However, she understood what Leah was getting at. Playing devil’s advocate purely kept the options open.

Morgan went through the case file sentence by sentence, not that there was an inordinate amount of detail. She sighed in frustration, if it had been a middle aged straight man found dead, Morgan new the case file, if there had been the slightest suspicion, would be about an inch thick. Their breakfast arrived, but the Doctor was absorbed in the toxicology break down. She only looked up when, Leah spoke. It was good that someone seemed to care, however, Morgan bristled at the mention of speeding up the toxicology results. “You’ll get them as soon as possible. I’ll speak to the team tomorrow and get them prioritized. Let me run my own office, Lieutenant.” Turning her attention back to the toxicology break down, the Doctor read aloud, “Alpha-methytryptamine, ethylphenidate, hydroxytryptophan; these are commonly found in legal highs.” She pulled her plate towards her and stabbed at an egg, pleasantly surprised as the yolk ran out onto the toast. “However.” She tapped the report with a delicate finger, “They are all different types of highs.” Leah nodded in encouragement for her to continue. “Now, whilst I think someone, anyone, can be a recreational drug user, I don’t think a colleague kid with his head screwed on the correct way would take cocktail like that. Having said that,” Forever critically analyzing things, “If he’s inexperienced when it comes to drug usage, there’s the danger that people think legal means the substance is safe, when infact they are usually more dangerous.” She let that statement sit for a moment, taking a bite of her cooling breakfast.

“Where’s the mention of interviews? These characteristics- student, sporty- it doesn’t really tell us anything.” Morgan snapped out of frustration. “Was the kid having a hard time and maybe did want to get off his tits? Off his head, I mean.” ‘Off your tits’ was an expression from back home and to Morgan’s knowledge it hadn’t jumped across the pond.

“There’s also traces of, sodium and calcium hypochlorite, sodium dithionite and geranyl butyrate. Now, they could be by-products of the highs, but they are also properties found in bleach. Could be that whatever the victim, potential victim, ingested was a lethal premade mix.”

“Where’s the clarification of whether there were signs of sexual intercourse?” She frowned, passing the file back to, Leah who was taking another drink of coffee.

“Can I get another, please?” Morgan gestured to her almost empty cup as the waitress waddled past. “Leah?” Nodding towards the Lieutenant’s mug, before lifting her toned forearms from the table top running slender fingers up over her forehead and into her glossy hair which was still secured in the top knot she had tied- she glanced at her watch- almost eight hours ago.

Looking at the case file, almost willing more detail to be generated before their eye’s Morgan’s dark brown eyes snapped to Leah’s. “Do you have a photograph of the body in situ?” She frowned, thinking back to this morning- he could have been sleeping. “If someone has an overdose from this amount toxins.” She tapped the file once more, “You don’ just slump on the floor leaning against the cubicle. How was this one found?”

 

[Ambrosia_64]

“Glass houses, Doc.” Leah said with a tired smirk as the woman bristled. She hadn’t forgotten the earlier upbraiding. “Glass houses. But, much appreciated.” Long drink of coffee, still sitting sideways in the booth as she looked at her ordered food thoughtfully.

She wasn’t sure she really wanted it, after all. Maybe just this coffee and the prickly company of the classy looking woman across from her. Snagging a piece of bacon, Leah figured she’d hedge her bets about the latter.

Leah about choked on her next sip of coffee, eyes immensely amused and slightly shocked at the turn of phrase. She frowned in the next moment, lowering the cup as the other woman decried the state of the file. “You know about as much as I do, Morgan.” She said softly, turning to sit in the booth appropriately, pick up a knife and fork. “The only reason I’m aware of it is because his parents got in contact with me. They want the case reopened. I want the case reopened. There’s some resistance, and I can’t get my hands on enough evidence to beat the commissioner over the head with-so far.”

She gave a nod about the coffee, a bite of french toast before Morgan was looking at her again. Leah made sure to swallow, first. “I’ve seen them, we’ll see if I can pry them out of Samson’s drawer of duds.” Leah sat up a little straighter, her eyes narrowed on the case file. “...but clean. He was found clean. Seated and leaning back, no shirt.” She shook her head.

“I don’t have to tell you there’s a clear bias on the force.” Leah said, sitting back away from her barely touched plate, a troubled frown on those full red lips. “They won’t want me to spend a lot of time or resources on this case-not that I’ve ever cared what Brass has to say in the first place.” She finished with a look of disgust.

“But we’ll do what we can for our kid. I’ve got a round of inquiries to make while we wait on the tox results, see what his friends say, see if there’s a boyfriend in the mix. Gotta start with that baseline.”

 

[Tanned_babe]

Morgan nodded sadly when she heard he was found clean and shirtless, the latter because he would almost definitely have vomited on himself. “Why isn’t the fact he was shirtless in this bloody report?!” She snapped again, exasperated. The thought of police bias flashed through her mind again, but any mention of such may look like she was tarring, Leah with the same brush and although she wouldn’t admit it to herself, Dr Vincent was taking a liking to the cop.

“Well, if there’s any mirroring of today’s case then that should be enough, surely? Failing that I’ll put a word in with my Chief when I next see him.” God knows when that would be thought, Morgan. NYC’s chief medical examiner was so far removed from the actual role of a medical examiner it was no wonder that the department was in need of serious improvement, the year old case, Leah had presented being case and point. Morgan was tired; she was a Medical Examiner, it was a highly regarded position and she was well compensated for it, but she found herself increasingly identifying cracks in the current set up and rectifying them. The Doctor worked weekends, nights, took charge of morning briefings, provided peer checks on other’s cases. There were only so many hours in the day.

At the mention of today’s patient’s boyfriend, Morgan pricked up; she’d been distracted by Rosenberg ‘s historic case that she hadn’t gone through the finding’s from today’s. “Right, hang on, Lieutenant.” Morgan ran through what she’d found from the external examination. “So, in summary, we have a male, presumed homosexual, found in an alley way in Hell’s. He’s had both oral and rough anal intercourse.” At this she pushed her half eaten eggs away. “However no traces found regarding the latter. Why have intercourse with someone and worry about traces somewhere but not the other? There’s been no protection found at the crime scene, has there?”

Morgan paused to take another drink of coffee. She regarded, Leah through dark eyes; ever since an encounter with a personal trainer, she’d always had an appreciation for redheads, especially when she counteracted, Dr Vincent’s frustration with a soft tone. Morgan shock the inappropriate thoughts from her head. “At least we’ll have a match for the traces found on his face by tomorrow AM.” Morgan shrugged, not sure that this would prove much.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

”Well, if there’s any mirroring of today’s case then that should be enough, surely?”

Leah looked very, very tired all of a sudden. She was always full of energy and vigor, it wouldn’t look quite right. She took another sip of coffee, delaying answering the question, the green flecked eyes a little distant for a moment. Leah was a force of nature on the force, cutting through and ducking as much red tape and bureaucratic bullshit as possible. She cared more about her cases than her career and was a cop from a long line of cops-to hell with much else. She also worked long hours and took plenty of work home with her.

But she couldn’t always force her higher ups to cooperate, not always. The current D.A. was kind of an asshole, too. The only reason she ever got anywhere with him was because he liked her ass, she was pretty sure.

“...I’ll need more than a hunch. I’m willing to do the legwork for whatever circumstantial evidence there is, so we’ll see.” She said slowly, when in fact she wanted to say ‘No, they’ll wait for another couple of dead kids before they listen to me.’ She had drained the coffee and no longer wanted anymore of her breakfast. At least the good doctor was just as outraged over it.

Leah turned the empty coffee cup in her hands over and over, listening to what Morgan had found. “You’re right. That doesn’t make any sense. Two different partners?” Leah pondered the cup thoughtfully. “...maybe the oral is the partner and then the latter...a rapist? You said he had abrasions on his front...but none on his hands.” She wanted those tox results.

“If the sample donor is in the system, that is.” Leah mused, troubled. So...what? The kid has a tryst and then the guy rapes him? Or the kid does a favor for a partner and was seen doing so-then is killed leaving the club? Hm. “They’re still sorting-carefully-through the bags of trash, so if something turns up, we’ll know about it by the end of the day.”

Once the conversation lulled again, Leah threw some money on the table and picked up her jacket.

“...I’ll get back to you with whatever I find out there. I’m good, are you? Coffee to go maybe?” She said with a nod, thinking hard about something, no doubt about to burn the midnight oil, so to speak-but returning to that flippant, easy mood as she asked the two questions. If Morgan bristled or made a motion for her bag or wallet, Leah would wave it off. “Station’s paying.” She said, the tall woman already standing up, sliding her jacket back on, the badge over her head. A vivacious grin once Morgan was also sliding out and up, the two leaving.

“I mean, technically-they pay me, so any money I spend they’re technically buying.” She winked. Leah had just taken her to breakfast. Sneaky woman.

 

[Tanned_babe]

“Thanks for breakfast.” Morgan said, leaning back in the patrol car from which she had just left. “Here’s my card. I’m in court from eleven tomorrow, so during the morning briefing I’ll put a rush on getting the results from the boy’s face. Send me your contact details and as soon as I hear something I or someone in the office will let you know.”

Morgan turned on her heel and headed back into the morgue. Although still quiet due to it being Sunday, at least it the daylight counteracted any eeriness that had been felt in the wee hours of the morning. She swiped in at the security gate having been greeted by, this time, a female security guard. “Morning, Doctor.” The exchanged brief small talk before, Morgan disappeared into the body of the building to her office. The brunette sighed with annoyance as she hung up her jacket. “Leave them on my desk doesn’t mean strewn them all over the place.” She muttered, gathering up the reports that had been left for her review. With the exception of the scattered papers, the room was neat and boasted a Scandinavian style desk with matching table enough for four to meet at and a long low filing cabinet. It was mostly white with the exception of a Monstera which sat atop the filing cabinet and a MOMA calendar on the wall; this month was Rothko.

Touching the iMac’s mouse the computer came to light. The internal system booked in patients that arrived at the morgue and associated members of staff had visibility of this. It was a good system and it meant that Morgan, not that it was her job to do so but who else would, could allocate patients to staff members quickly. Finally selecting the suspicious death, she tagged herself against it and made a note that all tests be expedited ASAP, so long as doing so wouldn’t have adverse effects on other cases, and for the findings to be shared with her.

Having caught up on admin as best she could, Dr. Vincent left the office before five with the case file for tomorrow’s court appearance under her arm. The case was clear cut, the man had stabbed the victim seventeen times, however, when the accused is a silent partner in 5% of Wall Street, things get interesting.

And things certainly did get interesting, so much so that the Medical Examiner’s presence was required for the full day and much of the next. During which, she had seen there was a DNA match to the semen on the boy’s face, yet she didn’t have time to call Leah herself, so instructed her PA, Rose to do so. From what she could decipher from glances at her phone there had been little else progressed by Tuesday at two thirty when she stepped out of the back door of the court room into the afternoon sun.

Exhaling deeply, Morgan walked in the opposite direction of Foley Square; the last thing she wanted was to end up in the middle of the media frenzy which was occurring. Her long bare legs were accentuated with a pair of black high heels which would put above the height of your average man. It was a nice change or wardrobe, compared to her usual scrubs or whatever pair of jeans she could reach at 3am. Her tight physique was poured into a black sleeveless dress which cut just above the knee, thus displaying that, despite what people said, yoga paid off.

Walking along Worth Street, Morgan hailed a cab. As she bundled herself, jacket and bag into the back seat her phone rang. “520 First Avenue, please.” She said distractedly to the Korean driver. Recognizing the name of the caller she answered. “You got the tox report, Carla?” The driver was heading down to the Brooklyn Bridge, traffic was always bad on First. “Alpha-methytryptamine, ethylphenidate, hydroxytryptophan?” The woman on the phone stammered. “Just a hunch. Let me know when the rest of the tests are finished, OK?”

Looking through some recent texts, she located the red head’s number. “Lieutenant, its Morgan.” She skipped past the small talk, “Tox match your historic case. These are just the preliminary results, but they are accurate.” Morgan gave, Leah a couple of moments to absorb this information before continuing. “I’ve been stuck at County ‘til now, but I’ll be back at my office in about ten minutes if you’d like to come by? I’ll be there until…” Who was she kidding, out of the office for a day and a half, she’s be lucky if she was home by midnight, “I’ll be there.”

Forty minutes later, Morgan sat behind her desk, long lightly tanned legs crossed, typing away on the computer screen when, Rose appeared in the door way. “There you go, Morgan.” The greying PA smiled, handing her Wholefoods lunch.

“You’re a star, thank you.” Morgan had a soft spot for the woman, although completely out of touch with modern technology, Rose could run an office with military precision.

“Security has just called, Lieutenant Rosenberg’s here to see you. I’ll just send her in when she gets here.”

Thanking her PA once more, Morgan waited until she was alone once more to turn the camera of her iMac on and check her appearance. Her glossy hair cascaded around and over her shoulders and at least she looked a bit more fresh-faced than their last early morning encounter. Clicking the computer screen back to the report, Morgan continued typing until she heard a wrap at the door. “Have a seat.” She gestured to, Leah once she’s stepped into the office. “Here.” Morgan rose from her chair to hand the Lieutenant the Tox report. “Once you’ve absorbed that, let me know if you tracked down whoever left his mark of the boy’s face.”

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Not long after she left the car, Morgan would get a text message that simply read “Leah”.

“Rosenberg.” The sound of traffic could be heard in the background, bustling crowds-the policewoman distracted sounding. She was on foot somewhere, sounded like. “That’s great news Doc, see you soon.”

//////////////////

The lieutenant was dressed down, per usual. Jeans hugged those long legs today, the form fitting denim disappearing into those familiar, attractive, calf hugging brown leather boots with the two inch flat heels adding to her already impressive height. Leah’s straight backed, perfect posture only ensured she towered over most other women, and was eye level or a even a few inches taller than most men. She wore another loose white mens shirt tucked into the jeans, brown belt and bomber jacket, her badge around her neck. She managed to look good no matter what she wore, really. That red lipstick was the only sign of any intentional vanity, and with her dark red hair contrasting with those green flecked hazel eyes...well, she was nice to look at. Sex on legs, some of the more crass officers called her-behind her back of course.

When she walked in she was ending a rather terse sounding phone call with a “I don’t have time for this.” Morgan might notice the cop didn’t have a smart phone, but an older, beat up looking flip motorola. She snapped it closed without a goodbye and pocketed it one step inside the door, a half, distracted nod at the offer for a seat. “How ya doing Doc?” She asked, that usual enthused energy of hers-a quick sweep over the other woman’s attire as she stood to hand her the report-respectful, maybe not even out of place-but then again, who knew? “You’re looking nice today.” She said with a smile, appreciation in the multi hued eyes. In the office, they looked amber with little sparks of green throughout.

Damn, did she, and all that dark hair... Leah knew she was pretty-she wasn’t sure Morgan could look ugly if she tried-but the dress and heels just...well, she was a classy looking, beautiful woman, and Leah couldn’t help but feel further impressed. The doctor was utterly unintimidated by her too, abrasive priss that she was. But there was something under there. She was pretty sure she’d already started to see it. And Morgan cared about the kid.

In this line of work, where it was so easy to become jaded and “just a job”, that genuine care was just...refreshing.

One of her graceful hands touched the back of the chair and pulled it partially back as the other accepted the report-flipping it open and almost, almost starting to sit-but not making it before she stood straight again, frowning. God dammit.

Pacing behind the chair now, she read it once more and then snapped it closed. “Same club, same cocktail, same victim profile.” Those red lips pursed, thinking-and then she shook her head. “Dead end. He was in the system for public exposure-got a little handsy in a movie theater once, I guess-but turns out it was just a kid our dead one had a crush on. Chance encounter in the club, risque trip to the bathroom-and an exchange of numbers. He spent the first twenty minutes terrified he was in some kind of trouble-and didn’t even know our kid had died. Not a lick of guile. Dead end.”

Then her lip curled. “The boy’s mother was a piece of work. Parents disowned him when he came out last year. The dad bawled his eyes out, but she just went on and on about how she knew this would happen, that it was punishment-I barely got anything useful out of the bitch.”

She paused in her pacing, a glance to Morgan. Shop talk. “...sorry.” She took the seat, one of her legs bouncing in place. “I interviewed the roommate, which lead me to a disgruntled ex-boyfriend-but he was at work in a pizza joint, confirmed the alibi. I went back through the trash myself with a fine tooth comb-the killer took the condom with him. Got the kid’s phone downloaded onto my hard drive-nothing of interest. I pulled grainy footage from the club’s door camera and had it sent to NASA, nothing back yet, I’m hoping to see him leave and see if he was followed because right now-” Leah rubbed her forehead. She hadn’t even been to sleep yet. She was coming up on 18 hours awake-not altogether unusual, but still. “I’ve got zilch. Just a suspicious set of matching tox reports, one of which for a case that was slam dunk closed by my idiot contemporaries months ago with zero follow up.” She was frustrated, she was tired, and she was not looking forward to the meeting she had with her boss in two hours.

“If these were random killings, I don’t know how I’m going to catch him with what I have right now.” Her eyes swept over Morgan’s desk, absently picking up details. One might wonder if that mind of hers was ever really at rest.

“...and if they’re connected, which I suspect they are, that means he’ll kill again, and then I have to hope he gets sloppy sooner or later. He’s killed twice at the same club, so maybe he’s comfortable there, maybe he’ll continue with his M.O.”

Sooner or later. So how many more dead kids, Leah? How many would it take before something incriminating was left behind? There had to be something with this one. The footage was a faint hope, but it was something. “...I meet with my boss later today. I’ve put two of my detectives out on the ground, so maybe they’ll shake something out of somebody. I can probably keep them on it for another couple of weeks…but if we do have a multiple offender...these kinds of things just escalate. There’s a large gap between these two cases, but that’ll shorten, the longer he’s out there, the less he can coast on it.”

“...I’m not much of an optimist, but do you think it was accidental, overdosing the kid? Maybe he’s a serial rapist, I should look into that...Jesus, did I say optimistic?” Leah shook her head as she leaned back in the chair, her leg finally stilling, a tight frown on those red lips as she gazed idly at the calendar, the plant. It was nice and quiet in here.

 

[Tanned_babe]

Morgan liked details or rather; Morgan noticed a lot of detail, a trait that if you didn’t come to terms with could drive one mad. The detail in question was the Lieutenant’s eyes; the caused the Doctor to do an albeit subtle double take. They had not been dark two days ago, now the iris was a lighter shade then her hair. Not that she had too much time to think about it as, Leah threw the curveball in the form of a compliment. “Court.” Dr Vincent shrugged, ignoring that tiny fraction of her that jumped for joy at the red-head’s approval.

She resumed her assault on the white keyboard, wanting to get the debrief of her last 36 hours in court out the way. It was protocol, process, red tape. It was bull shit. Morgan had four bodies waiting for autopsy, two of which were more heinous than the case the women were discussing. Although far more clear cut. Same club, same drugs, same type of victim. If it was the same perpetrator and he was deliberately killing these boys he was also pretty good at it. A chilling thought.

The brunette sighed heavily as she deleted a sentence for the third time, the leggy red head’s pacing was distracting her. She glanced up, about to tell her unlikely ally to sit down, but swallowed the words in exchange for an uninterrupted appreciation of her denim clad legs, accentuated by the boots. Morgan could tell it was a trademark outfit, the woman being so unapologetically comfortable in it.

“Risqué trip to the bathroom…”

“And they say love is dead.” Morgan retorted dryly, faining absorption in the debrief.

The Doctor allowed, Leah to vent. The Lieutenant was understandably frustrated. If the women were anything alike it was the way they both placed ridiculous standards upon themselves, whilst most others just seemed to cruise by and accept that instances ‘went with the territory’.

When Leah was finished and had sat back down, Morgan wordlessly pushed her chair back, stood up and left the office, closing the door behind her. Several moments later she reappeared, sitting a cup of tea and a Trek bar in front of the cop.

It was Morgan’s turn to stand, total sidestepping the act of kindness, she picked up where, Leah had left off. “It could be an accidental murder.” Morgan shrugged. “But why leave the body clean? To make him look like he’s just gone to sleep.” She snapped answering her own question. “I don’t know, it could be, but we need to keep our options open, don’t we?”

“When its legal highs it actually makes things so much more difficult, I mean we can’t even use any of the forces snitches to see who’s selling some really nasty stuff. This,” She gestured to the report on the table, “It’s over the counter stuff. I guess the only thing I can think of right now, is seeing if anyone had asked local High shops about the mixing drugs or buying an off concoction. Then again, it was over a year ago when he bought this, I’d imagine the staff in these establishments changes all the time.”

Morgan wheeled back her chair and sat down, crossing her long legs under the desk as she did so, causing the quality material of her dress to inch up her thigh. She didn’t want to say it, there was no value in saying it, but they just had to wait until it happened again. “We might get lucky and he’s kicking around that club.” Morgan shrugged without much conviction. The media hadn’t ran with the story, so he’s still consider himself low profile, and rightly so. To date, it was only Morgan, Leah and one of the boy’s mum’s who seemed bothered.

“Lieutenant?” Morgan said seriously. “Go home. Get some sleep. You’re no use to anyone in this state.” If it wasn’t a gay man, it would be someone else getting whacked tonight that would rouse the red head in the wee hours.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

The tea and trek bar visibly surprised her-her expression shifting to a grateful, tired smile and nod. Good to know she wasn’t entirely off her mark about the good doctor.

Hm. Distracting.

“Yeah...you’re right.” Leah agreed, rubbing the back of her sore neck. “I’ll go see if the boss is available for me to yell at now-then try and get some sleep.” She finished off the tea and rose to her feet again. “Thank you, Morgan. You have a good rest of the day.”


/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Leah had enough pull within the department to have her cases assigned with who she wanted, eight times out of ten. Morgan would find herself working alongside the leggy lieutenant more often than not over the next several weeks-mostly open and closed cases. Ex husbands offing ex wives, a few drug related shootings, a poisoning death or two-things Leah seemed able to wrap up in short order and pass along to the D.A. for prosecuting. The woman was rapid fire and always seemed to be doing something. Almost as if she wasn’t physically capable of sitting still or remaining stagnant for any period of time.

It seemed she had a heavy caseload, because Morgan wouldn’t see much of her outside the crime scene or maybe a debriefing here and there. She did assist with the autopsy of a shooting victim, but had been anxiously impatient about the bullet used-which she was able to slam dunk match to her lead suspect’s unregistered pistol.

As competent of a detective Leah was, her chaotic methods were, at times, a little maddening. Everything always wrapped up nicely in the end, the case’s ducks in a row-but it took time and pestering for the red tape and bureaucratic processes to be wrung out of the lieutenant, and she seemed very good at avoiding paperwork until the last possible second-when her secretary could finally wrangle the woman into sitting at her desk for any length of time.

It was rumored Leah didn’t even have a computer in her office-her emails were printed, Leah would scrawl a response on the copies, and then the secretary would dutifully type them up and send them back. The pool of office help all seemed to pity whoever was assigned to Rosenberg. The average career length of her secretaries was about one year-though the current one, a young man named Matthew Gibbons, had done the job for a record breaking two.

Still, she was always good to them, even if her work habits did drive them up the wall.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It was nine at night when Morgan’s phone would light up with Leah’s contact information, a text message coming across the screen. Unusual-the night shift started at eleven and went until eight am.

“Dead body in our alleyway. Can pick you up.” The simple text message was plain but one could almost imagine the energy behind it.

Assuming the response was in the positive, Leah’s unmarked police cruiser pulled up outside not even ten minutes later, a hot coffee from a local chain held out for the doctor and the door barely closed before she pulled away again. Leah looked as if she’d gotten dressed in a rush-tan denim khaki pants were tucked into her trademark boots and she wore a woman’s button up navy blue long sleeved shirt, untucked but hinting...or rather conservatively displaying-her bombshell shape. Part of the shirt caught up on the holstered glock on her right hip. Her hair was damp and sort of tousled around her back and shoulders, as if she’d just gotten out of the shower-and her usual lipstick was missing, revealing the natural pink color of her full lips. Her bomber jacket was thrown haphazardly into the back seat and she was looping her badge over her head as they drove.

“Heard the call on the scanner.” The redhead explained, her lights on but no siren, hurtling through the crowded, busy streets. “They put Samson on it, but I’m about to pull rank-just let me handle him, shouldn’t take more than a second.”

The alleyway looked much the same as it had before-gathered crowd at one end, yellow tape, a police officer checking ID’s-and five or six uniforms milling about just on the other side of the tape. Leah flashed her Badge at the cop guarding the tape with a quick, friendly, “Hey Charlie-” Before ducking under, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail and securing it with an elastic.

A heavier set man in his early fifties caught sight of her immediately, breaking away from the uniforms, holding up a hand and frowning. “Whoa whoa Red, what’re you doing here? I already got this covered.” He was five inches shorter than Leah in her boots, and looked puzzled to see her there. Not straight up dismayed, but puzzled. His eyes shifted to Morgan. “You ain’t the doctor on call either-he ain’t even here yet.”

“She’s with me.” Leah said conversationally, cheerfully upbeat. “I’m taking over. Who discovered the body?” Utter confidence, assurance.

“Wha-you can’t do that, WHY would you do that?” Samson protested, frowned. “It’s just a random drug OD, anonymous someone called it in-probably whatever buddy was doing them with him.” He scratched the side of his head. “You pulling rank?” He said with surprise and confusion.

“I’m pulling rank. Pack on up and head out Sam, but leave me two uniforms. I got a job to do.” Leah sidestepped and started forward- but the man irately caught hold of one of the lieutenant’s slender wrists, stopping her short.

“Wait just a-you can’t just roll up and-” Leah rounded on him, all geniality gone from her voice and a fiery temper lighting her face as she spoke in a lowered, dangerous tone.

“The last man who touched me without permission still walks with a limp, detective.” She intoned darkly. He released her like she had burned him, gaping up at her. Leah impatiently made a gesture for Morgan to go ahead of her-and then followed suit with a final “Get the fuck out of my crime scene.” shot back to the man. Samson angrily called his own men away from the scene and stalked off, ducking under the tape and exchanging words with the guarding cop, as if Charlie shouldn’t have let Leah in.

“That went well.” Leah muttered to Morgan. “Sure I won’t hear about it later, or anything-crybaby that he is.” A wink, her flare of temper already reined firmly back in and replaced with that easy, genial attitude of hers-as if she hadn’t just threatened another cop.

“So. Let’s see what we got.” She said, that worn leather notebook pulled from her pocket, and a click of her pen.

No trash, this time-the body had been left leaning against the wall, his head tipped downwards as if he were sleeping off too much to drink. Fully clothed in a flannel red shirt and jeans, he had been a bigger, more broad shouldered man than the two before him, a closely trimmed chestnut colored goatee and clean haircut.

He had nasty marks around his neck, thin rope burns, little red indents where something had been pressed hard into the skin. A necklace perhaps?

“Buttons are off.” Leah mentioned, already scribbling into the notebook, her eyes having scanned over the scene. Sure enough, his shirt was buttoned up but misaligned. For a man dressed and groomed so neatly, it seemed off.

 

[Tanned_babe]

It had been a hard week. Month. Year? There really was nothing like finishing off a 15 day stretch with a child being hauled from the Hudson. You didn’t need to be a doting Mother or caregiver for that to get under your skin. However, it wasn’t all bad; a lot of cases, grim as they were, were being closed out quickly and more importantly, correctly. Well, correctly was a stretch, the past few months had seen her work increasingly closely with, Lieutenant Rosenberg. Well, closely, another stretch. They worked the same cases, yet with Rosenberg’s case load and Morgan’s need to juggle court along with her actual job gave little more than a brief consultation at the scene and the odd catch up.

Their interactions were mixed; whilst Dr Vincent had far more faith in, Leah than most she dealt with the NYPD, this didn’t stop periodic friction. One such case was when the Lieutenant pushed so hard for corners to be cut during a most mortem so that a bullet which would pin a murder to the victim’s soon to be ex-husband could be extracted straight away. “Doc, just do the internals, we know what the story is here.” Morgan declined. “Doc, please, she’s got a single shot to the head. Write that down and get that bullet.”

There was a heated exchange, Morgan outlining that there is a process to follow whilst Leah shot back that the suspect could be boarding a plane to Peru as they spoke. “Well, if that is the case, Lieutenant, I suggest you get out my morgue and make a phone call to stop such!” Three hours later, they were having an, albeit quiet, coffee.

Dr Vincent wasn’t about to change, she was doing well. Even though it frustrated her to do the job of someone above her seniority, it was all great experience. The lack of direction from the Chief Medical Examiner, Dr Peter Summers, meant that the thirty year old was making calls, approving budgets and finalizing Court briefings. “All counts towards a great CV.” Her Father often advised when her Mother complained that she hadn’t been to Houston in almost a year and missed the last two trips back home. No, Morgan wasn’t sacrificing what she was working so hard for the inefficiencies of the Police force, Leah and a few others being excluded from this stance.

Not that she dwelled on this today. Having struggled to switch off the previous evening, Morgan was determined to enjoy her day off and she did that. Rising uncharacteristically late, the tall brunette pulled on her Brooks running shoes and set off on the 6 mile Bridge loop. It had been a while since she had done it and it never failed to remind her whilst she was here. The city looked fantastic in the cool November light, despite the ridiculous signs of Christmas everywhere. The rest of the day was spent in and around her apartment. You know you are well on your way to middle age when one is content cleaning, cooking a nice dinner and having a bath.

By just after eleven in the evening, Morgan, for the first time in months, was completely chilled. Her dark eyes watched the Lush bath bomb explode in an array of colours, causing the water to turn petrol green. Her lean body sunk further into the fragrant warmth as she picked up September’s edition of British Vogue. Flicking past the first eighty pages of adverts for bags, watches and such, Dr Vincent indulged herself in an article, “Can the arts make the world a better place?”

Morgan’s eyes, glittering in the candle light, snapped open when she heard the faint ‘ding’ of her work phone. Surely not. No, if she was required, they’d call. Her shoulders slipped back under the cooling water in a brief attempt to not let the interruption bother her. “For God Sake.” She tutted, sounding really Scottish, and stood up, water cascading off her naked body. The Medical Examiner wasn’t that curvaceous, rather looking more athletic than she really was. Wrapping a thick white towel around herself, she padded, dripping as she went, to her bedroom.

“Dead body in our alleyway. Can pick you up.” Morgan quickly replied. Bloody Rosenberg! Anything that could be done her way was. What if she had ignored that text? Where was the page that should go along with the phone call? There was no time to think about that now though. Morgan towel dried herself, avoiding her uncurtained window as she did so. She took two attempts to fasten her black skinny jeans as usually nimble fingers yielded under the rush. Selecting a grey sweatshirt that hung loosely around her torso, Morgan redid her, fortunately dry pony tail and pulled on a pair of flat Chelsea ankle boots.

How many times had she fired down these cast iron stairs in the middle of the night? No doubt disturbing some of her neighbours, in fact she knew she did, for the older lady downstairs commented that she keeps similar hours to a call girl. So you can either work nine to five like a good girl or be a hooker? Nice. Only this time, it wasn’t the dead of night? What the hell was the perpetrator, if there was one, playing at?

“Bit early?” Morgan said, greeting, Leah as she placed her medical bag, jacket and scarf in the backseat. Thanking her for the coffee, Leah shot off, causing Morgan to be jolted back, spilling coffee on her jeans. The Doctor cursed, wiping the liquid with the palm of her hand. “No doubt someone’s in the process of checking his ID and writing it off as OD as we speak.” Vincent said sourly as she fought with the car for her share of the seat belt.

Dr Vincent pulled a nicely fitting leather jacket on over her grey sweatshirt, the get-up seemed to accentuate her long legs, before grabbing her bag and following, Leah who was already a few yards in front of her. Stepping under the tape whilst flashing her badge she walked to where the Lieutenant was standing just in time to see Samson start on Leah. He was a bull, both in appearance and character. Morgan had worked with him several times and each time he was a chauvinistic as the last. Not that, the brunette was overly concerned with the dialogue between the cops. Her dark eyes shifted around the crime scene and although not that close the other body, she could see that it was different to the last two cases.

“It’s just a random drug OD.”

“ODs usually have their jeans undone and mark’s around their neck?” Morgan asked. She was met with a glare prior returning to ‘Red’. How creative, she thought shaking her head and returning to survey the scene. Morgan took a couple more steps forward; nothing untoward around the body at first glance. But the body itself was a different story. The face was a darker shade than it should have been given, well, the fact he was dead. Her attention sprang back to Leah, her tone completely different from anything she’d heard before; dangerous, however, Morgan couldn’t help but stifle a smirk at the comment. “The last man who touched me without permission still walks with a limp, detective.” She was something else.

“Excuse me.” She said curtly to the officers crowding the body. She was joined by the Lieutenant moments later.

“That went well.” Leah muttered to Morgan.

“You should play a bit nicer with the boys.” Morgan stated, not looking away from the body.

The scene was as the Lieutenant had noted: bigger guy, mark’s on neck, possibly partial strangulation, but nonetheless peaceful looking. Same club stamp, “He’s been at Q as well.” Morgan noted. Date rapes, and worse, can happen anywhere, however they were more likely to happen the poorer quality of the venue and Q, from what Morgan could decipher, wasn’t too bad. Middle class crowd, bouncers, CCTV. Maybe the perpetrator wasn’t ever going into the club? Was this a meet up place for a quickie arranged on, Grindr, or similar? They would discuss this later.

“Buttons are off.” Leah mentioned, disturbing Morgan’s train of thought.

“Yes, Lieutenant, thank you.” Dr Vincent said tersely. “Did you pull me out the bath to bring me here to do my job for me?” She didn’t wait for a response before digging out her camera to take photos of the scene.

Forty minutes later, Morgan knew little more than she had done arriving. “Well, we know how much I like to speculate.” She sighed to Leah sarcastically, upon being asked for her take on things. “But I’d wager tox remain key here. There’s been attempted strangulation with a nylon cord, rope, what have you, but that’s not what’s killed him. Again, can’t be sure until we cut him open, but you’d expect to see a purple hew to the face, certainly with time of death being circa 10pm.” Morgan sighed. “Busy round here. He’s bold, getting boulder. This guy must be about one ninety. I recon he’s had the same dose as the other two and that wasn’t quite enough do the job. Half way through having his, or her,” She added sceptically, “Fun, this guy stirs and the perpetrator is panicked. Grabs something close to hand.” She jerked a slender hand, signifying strangulation. “Whatever was round her neck has debris on it, so it was probably lying around. He work’s clean, that much we know.”

Snapping off her gloves, Morgan asked to body to be taken down to the Morgue before turning back to, Leah. For the first time that evening the Doctor really looked at her; she was always frustratingly good looking, but with her hair pulled away from her face, left natural without her usual slash of red lipstick the Lieutenant looked really beautiful. Snapping this though from her head, Morgan busied herself with returning her kit to the medical bag. “I don’t think there’s anything else for me to do here tonight, Leah. Unless you really want this autopsy at 3am, otherwise I’ll personally do it first thing in the morning.”

 

[Ambrosia_64]

”You should play a bit nicer with the boys.”

Leah’s eyes widened a fraction as they snapped to the other woman- Morgan looking for all the world as if she hadn’t just made what Leah was dead sure was a crack, repeating her earlier words from that first meeting. Leah had to stifle laughter behind one of her hands-which Morgan would hear but the cops down the way wouldn’t. Jesus Christ, this woman. Leah shook her head, lips curved into a smile.

Jesus Christ.

Of course, the good doctor was quick to return to her prissy no nonsense attitude, but Leah didn’t mind. It wasn’t a social call, after all, and she wanted, needed the doctor’s usual focused and meticulous work here. Didn’t stop her from teasing though. “Well, that was my plan-” Leah started with amusement; “-but now that you mention it, would probably make more sense to let you do it.” Scribbling down a last few observations before she turned away to let her work, studying the alleyway, particularly the area near the dumpster-which was crooked from the wall. There was a smear in the dust and grime, as if someone had been crouched down here and used it to steady themselves while standing.

Leah made a gesture to one of the techs to have the metal processed and fingerprinted, shining her own flashlight in hopes of a footprint, but no luck there. Dang. “Have the whole damn thing taken in and sorted, catalogued, after.” Who knew what the hell they’d find, if anything-she doubted anything-but she wasn’t going to risk losing ANY evidence.

Eventually there just wasn’t anything more for Leah to do here. The alley looked much the same as it had before, though there was a new chip in the third from the bottom brick on the corner there...which had nothing to do with fucking anything, just details her brain never seemed content to dismiss or ignore as unimportant. If anyone ever got a hold of one of her notebooks...well, best they didn’t, the sheer amount of details she wrote and crossed off in them.

She was back over by the body and the doctor, her arms crossed as she watched the open end of the alley and, occasionally, Morgan herself. “Or broken blood vessels in his eyes.” Leah commented absently, almost to herself-the doctor would know that already. She frowned at the man, a shake of her head. He deserved better. But then again, didn’t everyone?

“Thanks for coming out-sorry about the bath.” Leah started to say absently, before her eyes came up and a smile curved her lips for the apology. “I’m going to go to the club, ask a few questions, get the security footage pulled.” She had the still images from NASA, she could get this footage done too, see if there was a familiar face. Long shot, but maybe…

She realized she was musing over this while still looking at Morgan. Jacket looked nice on her. Just about everything did. Woman could have been a model-would have been a very serious waste of that mind of hers though.

“Buy you a drink to make up for that bath if you want to come, Doc.” They weren’t technically on duty, after all.

 

[Tanned_babe]

“Buy you a drink to make up for that bath if you want to come, Doc.”

Morgan’s knee jerk reaction was no, they were on duty. But technically they weren’t, were they? She shrugged, the quality leather of the jacket shifting on her toned shoulders as she did so. “I’m just going to go home and mull this over, so may as well. Maybe even have two, we can go Dutch.” It wasn’t an offer. Morgan was conscious of the number of coffees she was due, Leah. It put her on the back foot and she hated that. The Lieutenant would know as much, so the Doctor had a suspicion that’s exactly why she continued with the gestures.

Zipping the jacket, so it hugged her waist and modest chest, Morgan walked with Leah to her car to discard her leather bag. Any potential evidence had gone with the body apart from the photographs on the DSLR, which the tall brunette kept with her, crossing the camera bag over her body as they made the short walk to Q.

The establishment’s purple neon sign burned bright despite the street lights around it and small crowd of smokers gathered near the door, chatting that little bit louder as one does when your five drinks in. The queue was starting to form, but the two women walked to the door, subtly displaying their badges as not to draw to any attention.

It had been a while since Dr Vincent had been in a club, but she was quickly transported back a few years; the smell of sickly sweet cocktails, the claustrophobic nature of too many bodies packed in to one place and the smoky atmosphere. There was a bad remix of the already terrible Ed Sheeran song, Shape of You and whilst it was still early doors plenty of people seemed to be enjoying it.

Morgan’s dark eye’s took in her surroundings; there was at least two dance floors and two, but she’s later confirm four bars and quieter alcoves which hid off the main spaces. Perfect for someone to sit and watch their prey? But they place wasn’t near capacity, so surely that was risky.

“I’m going for a walk.” Morgan said loudly, leaning into the Lieutenant so she could hear her. “I’ll meet you at that bar there.” She pointed to the nearest one.

It didn’t take two of them to look at tapes and Leah had already scoped this place out. The club, as was typical with gay bars, a thirty – seventy split women to men and looking at it from an outsider there was certainly still some close knit circles here. Morgan was so absorbed in the details, she didn’t really here the thick based music or notice she was turning the occasional head. She scrutinized an older gentleman sitting on his own for a moment and then felt a twinge of guilt when he was promptly joined by his boyfriend. That’s why you don’t speculate, she reminded herself before moving on.

As she scoped the place out, Dr Vincent came across a couple of interesting angles, which gave the voyeur a great view of the entire second bar and main dance floors. Slipped into said table, and noted the lack of CCTV footage. Of course, Leah would be all over this, but she snapped a couple of pictures just in case. “Honey! Would you take our picture?” Said an affected voice, the owner of which put his arm around a male companion and posed.

Despite herself, Morgan smiled. “No sorry. The official photographer is over there.” She lied, before moving on, bagging her camera before the incident was repeated.

The Doctor continued her circuit stopping at the men’s restrooms without anything more than a few quizzical looks and a complement about her jacket. Entering the restroom, Leah had showed her in the photographs of the first homicide, far wall, right hand side, Morgan locked the door behind her and took in her surroundings. Tribute graffiti reminded users what had happened here, or rather what they thought happened here, but little else. What was she hoping to find though?

Returning to the bar, Morgan stood, her back resting against it as she watched the crowd, waiting for the Lieutenant. “You drinking, Honey or just here to watch?” One of the bar tenders asked with a smirk on her chubby face. Morgan ordered a double gin and tonic and a beer before handing over the notes in exchange.

“You timed that well.” She smirked handing the Lieutenant the cold bottle, noticing how the girl behind the bar’s eye’s followed, Leah’s approach. They stood talking side by side, both looking out at the club which was now really filling up. Morgan’s elbows rested on the edge of the bar as she asked, Leah about the CCTV coverage, only to be interrupted by a face she couldn’t quite place.

“Morgan! Hi!” A petite blonde girl with a pixie cut, bubbled excitedly.

“Hi?” Morgan frowned. Jesus Christ, Vincent, you never forget a face- of course! The girl chattering excitedly to the Doctor was a rash and regrettable attempt to meet people when Morgan had relocated to the city. “Laura, how are you?” Morgan said, trying to not sound as tense as she felt.

“I’m good, I’m good! How are you?” She was like a puppy that’d been shut in all day, not waiting for Morgan to respond before continuing. “Medical school’s going well. Fourth year. Yay!”

The Doctor could feel the joy of her discomfort radiating from her colleague as she struggled with this interaction. At last Morgan could pass it off as knowing the girl through some medical channel, guest lecturing. People did that. “That’s great… Laura. So, anyway-“

“Did you get all unpacked?”

“I’m sorry?” Morgan was rattled; she knew exactly what the girl meant.

“Well, when I was at your apartment-” No! At this point she felt, Leah shift beside her, no doubt to hide a smile with a fained distracted gaze. “You said you’d call once you were unpacked and settled in.”

“Right, look.” Morgan said, cutting through any polite pretense that had remained. “It was nice to see you, Laura, but this is not a good time.”

At this point the stunned student looked even younger than her twenty-five years, but she managed to regain composure. “Oh my God!” She proclaimed over dramatically, “I’m so sorry, are you two together?” She looked from Morgan who had at least four inches on her let alone the Lieutenant.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Leah had never visited a club socially. Just for leads and follow ups on leads, a few murder cases. She had never really had a “party” phase. When she did go out, which wasn’t very often these days-she went to cop bars with the boys at the station. Hell, sometimes she still found her dad in them, and he’d been retired for five years.

She gave Morgan a nod and got going on what she needed, getting the tape, talking to the club manager, getting interviews set up with the employees for tomorrow. She ducked into each set of restrooms along with a side closet that wasn’t locked, but nothing of note.

Leah found Morgan at the bar and was walking up when the doctor turned and handed her a cold one, a mildly surprised-and then amused-expression. “Beaten at my own game.” She said with a smile. “Thanks.” She took a sip and also turned to lean against the bar. Club was loud, but she was willing to linger if Morgan was here, might as well.

A high energy girl with a cute hair cut popped out of nowhere, all smiles and excited to see Morgan, it seemed like. Leah’s green flecked eyes flicked from Laura to Morgan, amused. The blonde was so friendly, happy-she couldn’t imagine where they knew each other, but Morgan seemed less than thrilled. The doctor wasn’t very good at making friends. Poor bubbly Laura. She lifted the beer to her lips again, letting her eyes trace the crowd when Laura interrupted Morgan’s brush off.

Wait-

Leah lowered the bottle, renewed interest in the exchange as the poor kid rattled on and Morgan looked more and more uncomfortable-the cop setting her bottle on the bar and straightening up off of it just as Morgan burst the blonde’s bubble. Leah internally winced.

Ouch.

The kid regained the wind in her sails and Leah took the opportunity to spare poor Morgan more embarrassment-and Laura more hurt, cause damn.

“Dr. Vincent and I are just catching up after a long day, Laura.” Leah said in that genial way of hers, a warm, disarming smile. “She can do better than a codgy old policewoman like me. And someone as pretty as you-” Her smile turned into a flirtatious grin. “-can do better than both of us.” She finished with a wink, causing Laura to blush deeply and stammer a “O-oh, thank you!” And hesitate for a moment, as if she’d like to get to know Leah a little better-but then skittering quickly away with a "B-bye nice to meet you!"

Leah turned casually back to the bar counter, picking the bottle back up and bringing it to her lips, looking thoughtful as she took another sip. “You always make pretty girls cry on your outings?” She teased, a sideways glance.

Effortless. Leah maneuvered through these kinds of things effortlessly. One might wonder if the lieutenant had ever felt awkward or self conscious in her life.

 

[Tanned_babe]

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief as the little blonde figure skipped off into the crowd, not really feeling any remorse for the exchange.
She went to turn herself towards, Leah but thought better of it. The colour still high in her usually even complexion as she stared down at her drink instead.

She'd been good had, Laura. Sweet, eager, energetic, all good qualities, especially when you threw those characteristics in with looks and brains, well learned brains, not common sense. They'd arranged to meet at a bar not too far from, Morgan's apartment; Brooklyn being the place where all the students found 'edgy', when in reality it was of course heavily gentrified. Morgan knew what she was doing; it was a fresh start, a new city, have some fun her friends and family, well Mother, had pleaded. They'd had fun, but one night of it wasn't worth the awkward morning, the annoyance of having someone outstay their welcome and the subsequent messages. No, there was a reason she'd been in her own for years and, Laura, unintentionally, reinforced that.

She pondered the red haired woman's question, but delayed answering it to drain her drink instead, the gin particularly aromatic at the bottom of the glass. Then, Morgan turned to the bar, matching the tall Lieutenant's stance before signalling to the bartender for another round. She waved, Leah's offer of cash away and handed over her own twenty.

"You made sure she didn't get too upset." Morgan said, trying to shrug it off in the casual way that, Leah would.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

“Well, it was that or watch you kill her.” Leah shook her head with a laugh before turning her head to face the other woman, her expression softening, eyes losing the teasing mirth. “C’mon, too loud here.” She’d head for a quieter booth off in the corner and slide into one side of it, leaning a little on the table, conspiratorially.

“Hey.” Leah started, surprisingly serious but still that general air of geniality. “I’m sorry if Laura...well, you don’t have to worry about it. If you like the closet or just...ya know, don’t want to deal with assholes at the office, that’s fine. I’m not going to go chatting anybody up about who you want to knock boots with.”

She wasn’t sure if Morgan would react coldly to the words or not, but felt better having said them. It was hard enough out there. “Me, I’m super gay-men at the station just like to hope otherwise.” She leaned back into the booth with a laugh, turning sideways in the booth like she had at the breakfast place, her long legs stretched across the seat.

 

[Tanned_babe]

The Doctor handed, Leah her drink, still not quite meeting her gaze. Despite what it looked like, Morgan wasn't embarrassed as such by her sexuality. She'd had a relatively easy 'coming out' experience. Yes, her mother was a bit miffed for a while, but since coming to terms with it the genial sixty year old had made, much to a Morgan's annoyance, inquiries into her sex, or lack of, life, suggested dating websites and even tried to set her up. The Doctor certainly took after her more reserved Father.

No, it wasn't the embarrassment of being gay, it was more what reference to a brought up, everyone had skeletons in their closet, Morgan being no exception. Not to mention, the little medical student had made her look like a borderline predator! And as, Leah would highlight, the work place politics. She'd been bitten by both the former and the latter.

Morgan followed the taller woman towards a boothed alcove, slipping in and crossing her long legs like they had done so during their first encounter a few months ago. She met the Lieutenant's eyes, the low light in here brought them to a dark amber, and shrugged off her apology. Morgan was about to reply to the pretty redhead's sentiment when she ended the statement with, "I’m not going to go chatting anybody up who you want to knock boots with.”

"Hang on!" Morgan said, a subtly manicured finger pointing at Leah. "There's no one," Apart from you, "Who I would go near at work." Her complexion redden slightly again. "Apart from anything, can you imagine how unprofessional that would be!?" The brunette had protested so hard that she had missed, Leah's revelation. This is why she didn't drink often, this is why she didn't have discussions like this, this is why she didn't get involved!

Despite herself she took a sip of her drink, only to choke on it when the Lieutenant proclaimed herself, 'Super gay'. "Fuck off!" Morgan scoffed, not unkindly. Her colleague loved a wind up and for a moment, Morgan regarded this as just that. However, quickly replaying the conversation in her head, the Doctor sat back, leaning against the faux leather of the booth and regarded, Leah in a new light.

One corner of the brunette's full lips crept into an, albeit surprised, smirk. "Thanks for sharing." She said, fidgeting with the wet glass before her. "I wouldn't have guessed." She mused, not intending the statement as a complement. "You've been here a while? Some of the guys must know?"

As they continued their dialogue, Morgan wanted to know, "But why deal with it, Leah? The sexism, the homophobia. I see it and I'm only on a scene for a fraction of the time you are and that's frustrating enough." Morgan frowned in thought. "Is that why you're all over the alley cases?"

Scanning the dance floor of gyrating bodies there were plenty of candidates for their next alleyway find. Morgan could see it, you're young, seeking validation. A stranger offers you that in the form an interesting proposition. It was a bit too easy.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Leah gave a nod about her having been there a while. "I started out as a beat cop straight out if the academy. I made Lieutenant after years of blood, sweat and tears proving myself to be just as good, if not better as any of 'em. My preferences are an open secret. With more friends than enemies on the force and a lack of political aims beyond my current position, I'm not really hiding anything, it just doesn't really come up much."


Another tip of the beer bottle. It'd been awhile since she had really talked about this sort of thing with anyone.

"Look-at the end of the day, the only opinion I care about is mine." Leah said, picking up and spinning the cardstock coaster. "I'm clever enough to turn that shit right around on the asshats who try it, and mean enough to make the particularly nasty sort regret it. I carved out my territory the same as any of the men did and won't be chased from it now. I come from a long line of New York cops. It's in my blood, can't do anything else." She shrugged with a faint smile that said she wouldn't WANT to do anything else. "I belong here. Hell, ])I belong any damned where I feel like being." Confident and assured about her place in the world, Leah was a woman to be reckoned with on that alone.

The alley cases. Leah dropped the coaster, somber a moment. "Because I'm gay? No." She looked out into the crowd too, frowning. "I'm all over it because I care about the underdog, I guess. Because it should matter. It should matter when someone is cut down like that, no matter what your thoughts are on them. You can't look at a person and decide whether they deserved the life they had or not. That's what murderers do." Her eyes narrowed. "That's the kind of arrogance that lets evil, awful shit fester in the worst and best places of the world. Designating people as "other", as less, as subhuman."

She shook her head, leaning back with a sigh. "That's probably more philosophical talk than you ever expected to hear out of me, sorry. No, I just want to see justice done, and I know I'll work harder at it than anyone else I've got under me or under Samson."

"Anyway-what about you? You liking the job okay? The ship's running a little tighter, I've noticed." Leah grinned. "You know, when those med students are leaving you alone, anyway." Had to tease. She'd gotten much too serious, too true to heart there a minute. Morgan held the world at arm's length with a cold shoulder-Leah did it with a warm smile and a wise crack.

"I'd offer to take care of anyone who gives you shit, but you terrify them all on your own." A wink.

 

[Tanned_babe]

"Shame not everyone shares our train of thought, Leah." Morgan sighed. "This case better get more resources after tonight."

"The job? It's good. I think?" The Doctor said, showing a rare hint of self doubt. "I mean it's quite different to what I was doing before. I mean I specialised in the Forensics side, but the university offered me a job in research once I finally graduated. Shocking as it sounds, my bedside manner was never great." She smirked, raising a dark eyebrow. "I'd get autopsies to do, but they tended to be specialised cases." She smiled, shaking her head, reminiscing. "Odd deaths, mostly homicides, hence falling in with the police out there." Morgan remembered, Leah had read her paper, so knew she was San Fran based. "Couple of years later, here I am."

She took another drink, eyes scanning behind, Leah momentarily. "There's just no direction. Before, at my last job, the labs, morgues, offices were run with military precision. That's what science is based on for God Sake! Here though, it's maddening. And what's even more maddening is the people are actually quite good. There's just no direction, well there wasn't. So I'm glad your seeing the benefits of all the toes I'd stepping on. Thanks." She added, almost ungrudgingly before, Leah referred to Laura.

Despite herself, the pretty brunette stifled a grin. "She was ready to switch to you pretty quickly. The self deprecating 'old policewoman' bullshit didn't really do much, did it?" And neither it should, the Doctor thought, looking over at the the perfectly chimerical face before her who was obviously enjoy the back and forth. "You've never felt uncomfortable in your own skin have you, Lieutenant?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Morgan was a capable woman. Leah wouldn't want to work under her, but she was glad to have her in the precinct. A good tool was a good tool, and the doctor was a pretty one, at that.

And on this case, she was particularly grateful to have her around. Everything else she would have to fight hard for, even after this third murder. She'd meet with the commissioner tomorrow. It might be time to go public, warn the populace. That would put the pressure on, but maybe the commissioner needed it to give her what she wanted for the case.

Leah grinned. "They always are." She said with a laugh, finishing off her beer, the amused grin softening into an easy, almost lazy smile as she gave a shrug. "Never had a reason to be, Doc. The world can take me or leave me, doesn't matter to me. Captain of my own fate, so to speak." Ah. This was kind of nice. Leah studied the dark haired woman across from her a moment. "You've made your own way, too."

There was work to be done.

Leah sighed. "I'll get this footage to NASA, then go over the stills with a fine tooth comb. I'm hoping hard for a few familiar, matching faces. And those markings on his neck-maybe the killer will hold onto whatever they used. They clearly pocketed it, unless it turns up in the dumpster...which I kind of doubt."

She frowned, thinking. "We're going to catch this guy." Leah said in a low tone. "Hopefully before he kills again...I'm glad to have you on the case, Morgan." She added, a thoughtful nod. "Case needs all the help it can get."

 

[Tanned_babe]

"I'm not glad to be working it." Morgan said draining her drink, wincing at the strength of the Tanquery. "But it's good to work with someone competent." She was somber again, mulling over what, the Lieutenant had said. Morgan knew she wasn't wrong, far from it.

The intro to a song which caused a cheer from the dance floor brought, Morgan back to reality. 'Hi Hi! We're your Weather Girls Ah huh. And have we got news for you. You better listen! Get ready, all you lonely girls
and leave those umbrellas at home. Alright!'

"I think that's our queue to leave." Vincent jested, nodding towards the door.

The two women, perhaps unto known to themselves were a striking pair; tall, physically fit, beautiful. All added to by the minimal attention they had given to their appearance. Nodding to the bouncers upon exit, Morgan could still hear 'Its Raining Men' as they walked down the street towards, Leah's patrol car. "Give me a ride home, will you?"


‘Is it all for me? Cause I know it’s all for you.’ Rooting for You by London Grammar poured from the iPhone in, Morgan’s backpack as she peddled across the Brooklyn Bridge. The Doctor gauged it to be between astronomical and nautical dawn, as the outline to her surroundings were becoming visible, yet it was still an ungodly enough hour to make her commute to work a breeze. The six speed black city bike was as fast an option as any for, Morgan to take, especially on long days such as this. There was of course the added bonus of some first thing in the morning adrenaline.

In the morgue by seven wasn’t bad going. Morgan had changed out of yoga pants and into a less flattering pair of scrubs to begin the autopsy. She retrieved the body of the now identified Jack Warner, clicked on the radio and got to work. Forty minutes in, the Doctor muttered, ‘Good man.” As she scrapped the victim’s finger nails. “Substantia debris under D1 and D3 of left and D1 through 4 on right.” Some of the sample was almost certainly his own skin, perhaps a bit if rope, cord, but hopefully further investigation would show more. Later, she’d find out they would.

The office was beginning to wake and fortunately, Adah, one of the lab assistants was early and noted Morgan was on her own. “Would you like a hand, Dr Vincent?” The well-built man of Indian origin enquired, “I was just going to make sure Auto Four was ready for Dr Marshall, but it can wait.”

“Perfect, Adah. Go get scrubbed up.”

Morgan continued with the Y-Incision when the door of lab opened. Morgan dare not look up, there was nothing worse than a clumsy dissection. “Before you do anything, can you calibrate the scales? I didn’t check them before I started.” The rule was that they should be recalibrated following every autopsy, but one could never be too careful.

“And here’s you always being so vigilant, Morgan.”

It took all of the Doctor’s self-control to not snap her attention from the patient towards the intruder. Instead, Morgan glanced briefly at the man standing, much to her annoyance, within the suite. “What can I do for you, Detective?” Morgan intoned coolly.

“Just come to see how our boy here is doing?” He shrugged, his fat shoulders, “Want to make sure we are all on the same page is all, Doctor.”

“And what page might that be?” Morgan sighed, pulling back the skin of the scraped torso to expose the victim’s internals, her dark eyes took in the display. Another perfectly healthy guy; this wasted life adding to her annoyance.

“OD isn’t it?”

“I haven’t completed my examinations and toxicology will take days. I will be updating which ever senior is in charge of the case accordingly.”

Samson smiled a crooked smile which back in his football playing days would probably have come across as charming. Now however, he was out of shape, balding and tired looking. “Last night was just a misunderstanding. We all know how, Red can get.” Morgan didn’t respond to this, so he continued. “Just a bit of slap and tickle gone wring isn’t it?” He probed, moving towards the body before reconsidering as Morgan, turned on bone saw to cut through the ribs.

Minutes later, irritably, Morgan, sat the drill on the stainless steel workbench, the air now slightly clouded with dust. “Detective, I appreciate your concern, but could you please leave my lab. I need to concentrate.”

“Smart woman like yourself, Doctor. I’m sure you can multitask.” At this point, Adah knocked on the door.

“Would you like me in now, Doctor Vincent, or would you like me to come-“

“No, no, Detective Samson was just leaving. Once you’ve calibrated the scales, put a note on those, they should be expedited ASAP.”

“The nail scrapings or the hair samples?”

Damn, Morgan thought. It wasn’t the man’s fault, how was he to know the Detective wasn’t in charge of this case. “Nail scrappings ASAP.” The older man scoffed, attempting to move into the lab once more, only to stop as Morgan, although she had no plan to use it, reached for the saw. It was common practice for nail scrappings, hair, fibers to be analysed, but stick an ‘ASAP’ on there and that means the Examiner thinks they are worth looking into pronto. “C’mon Morgan.” Why did he think it was acceptable to call her by her first name?! “I’m sure you’ve been there, heat of the moment, finger nails dragged down someone’s back.” Simultaneously, the lab assistant dropped a stainless steel tray and Morgan snapped off her face mask, whilst striding towards the Detective.

“A word. Outside.” She snarled before following the Detective out into the hall. “I will ask you one more time to get out of here and allow me to do my job, Samson.” Her dark eyes, boring into him.

“Calm down, Doctor. I’m merely here to learn more about the tragic events which unfolded last night. Accidental or not-“

“Don’t start a pretense now you are in earshot of others.” Morgan snapped, her accent leaning towards Glaswegian than the usual Anglo-American. “Get out now before I call security.”

He leaned into the tall brunette, “On what grounds do you think you can do that?” She growled.

“That comment you just made-“

“Oh here we go, the sexual harassment card.” He snorted. “You wish, Vincent.” Was Sansom’s parting shot, giving her an appreciate look up and down before turning on his heels. Morgan visibly shuddered. Catching her breath, she headed back into the autopsy suite.

“Sorry about that, Adah. Could you-“ He interrupted her, bringing out his phone, “You shouldn’t have that in here.” Her smooth forehead furrowing.

“I just heard it on the radio and looked it up.” The Doctor snapped off her latex gloves and took the device. The New York Times had run a story nine minutes ago: ‘Risqué Romp Leaves One Dead in Hell’s’. Morgan absorbed the article: ‘White male, student, alleyway, dead, strangulation, kink, gay neighborhood.’ Cursing, Morgan strode out of the room and headed for her office, taking the stares two at a time. She ignored her PA’s greeting, but noting that the grey haired woman was only just taking her coat off, of course, it was Friday’s she had her grandson to drop off at school.

She picked up her phone, went into her recent contacts and selected, Rosenberg. “Go on to The Times’ website. Now.” She panted.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

“What, new editorial cartoon you want me to read?” Her voice was friendly but teasing, typical Leah. Still, something about the way the doctor had said that, opened the call with it told her she wouldn’t like whatever it was Morgan wanted her to see.

Leah was in her office, for once. It was a spacious enough place, envied by many other senior officials-but went mostly to waste on her-she was in it as little as possible. Two bookshelves on one wall were full of black, two inch binders almost top to bottom, the nondescript spines labeled with month and years in a spidery, somewhat messy scrawl. The top two shelves on the left one had some actual books-two out of date, antique forensic leather bound tomes and then various reference materials from college.

The back wall was full of large, industrial filing cabinets, the blinds to the window drawn. There was bright pink flamingo in one corner of the room and a dying plant in another, mismatched office furniture.

Her desk was a chaotic mess of papers, folders, and stacks of files on each of the four corners. How anyone could get any work done at it was a mystery.

She unfolded herself from the chaotic surface that was her desk and strode to the frosted glass windowed door, throwing it open and poking her head out to look at Matthew. “Pull up the New York Times, will you?” She said to her secretary, rounding the neat and orderly desk to read over his shoulder, unsure what she was looking for...but feeling a vague sense of unease.

“You have to finish those evaluations soon, Lieutenant, the Commissioner’s been asking for them for a week, I think you better deliver what you have done so far....” “Haven’t started yet-” Leah murmured, the poor secretary stuttering as the leggy police woman took the mouse and clicked around for today’s news-the crime page-and uttered a foul curse.

“What the-what the fuck is-Oh, I’m going to kill him.” Her face was darkening, temper flaring in her chest. What the fuck was this?! The latest of the murders in her, HER case was plastered across the news, full of bullshit inaccuracies that made the poor dead man look like a dumb jock getting off on dangerous measures and paying the price for them. The article made it out like it was a cautionary tale about...what, being gay? Being gay and into being choked? The guy was murdered, this wasn’t a romp gone bad-

“Jesus fucking Christ Samson.” Who else could it be? Was he that pissed off about her taking over the crime scene last night? Wanted to “prove” it was an unrelated murder? Hell, he didn’t think any of them were related, and given how badly he had fucked up the first one-

“I have to go. Need tox results, need-fuck, I’ll call you back.” She sounded so angry one might almost pity whoever was about to receive the brunt of it.

Leah had a damned good idea.

She charged into her office, charged back out with three folders in hand, and beelined down the hall for the cramped, tiny office of one stupid, idiotic son of a bitch.

The door blew open, slammed into the opposite wall-which damn near made him spill his coffee and jump out of his skin. Rosenberg filled the doorway, at least the height of it-looking as cross as he had ever seen her. “The fuck are you-”

She closed the short distance between the door and his desk and slammed the file folders she carried in hand onto the surface of it, this time indeed causing him to spill his coffee on himself.

“Jesus Red, what’re you so assed up about!?”
“Are you fucking leaking details about MY case to the media, Samson?”
“You mean that OD from last night? The one you felt you just HAD to show me up on?”
“Samson, you’re a piece of shit. This isn’t a pissing contest, it’s a man’s murder.”
“You got no proof of that-”
“Not yet I don’t, but here’s where you’ve fucked up-this is a related case to a series. I’m on the hunt for a repeat offender, and you just shot me in the fucking foot.”

The shouting match continued back and forth, Samson having come to his feet and several office staff members clearly listening hard or pretending to work while ALSO listening hard. It wasn’t long before the Commissioner made an appearance, apparently not in one of his constant meetings.

“What is-what is going on in here?!” He was a trim, taller man who had been somewhat of a legend in his younger days-started as a beat cop fresh out of highschool and worked his way up, and up, political aspirations still strong. He had an olive skin tone and a salt and pepper mustache and full head of hair, dressed to impress. Samson clammed up, but Leah finished her last, parting insult before finally turning on her heel to face him.

“This asswipe-” She said with a jerk of her thumb at Samson. “Leaked information to the media about an ongoing case-MY ongoing case. You know, the latest in a string of murders at the Q club?”

Commissioner Piquette sighed. Not this again. “...Leah, we don’t know for sure they’re connected-” His red haired lieutenant gave a snort. “Look, you don’t have the luxury to continue “sitting and waiting” on this. Samson’s forced your hand. Because you keep quiet, you keep putting me off as more and more bodies pile up-and the media is going to have a field day with you. Hindsight’s a bitch, you know that-and the LGBT groups will spin it as you being a homophobic bigot at best, this being a dangerous oversight at worst, that you’ve willingly let a serial murderer run rampant in the city. He’s post marked the third murder for you.”

Samson sputtered.

“It’s not going to look good, you don’t let me get us out ahead of it.” Leah finished seriously.

Piquette studied the green flecked hazel eyes that bore into his. She was angry, fired up-but she had a point. If these killings were indeed related...it would make him look very, very bad to have ignored them, or for the department to have written them off individually one by one, missing the larger pattern.

Rosenberg hadn’t steered him wrong before. And between the two of them, she was the more valuable officer. Even if Samson had just received the upbraiding of his life, Piquette was hard pressed to discipline her for it.

“...ongoing cases do not get discussed with the media without my prior approval, Samson. I would be more...tactful in how you approach things in the future, Leah-” She rolled her eyes, but Piquette understood her frustration. “But I think you’re right….IF you’re correct about these cases being related, we have a predator in our midst. We should warn the public and ask for leads. We’ll get a press conference scheduled. Bring me more evidence and...don’t...don’t fuck this up, Leah.”

“Yessir.”

 

[Tanned_babe]

“So, here’s what we know so far.” Morgan stood at the head of the large white boardroom table, iPad Pro in one hand, its screen presented onto the two large 4K panels behind her. The display was an overview of what they knew about the 2-3 potential homocides, thus far. If it were not for the details of the autopsy and the toxicology results there would hardly have been anything on the screen.

Following from the morning meeting, she had pulled several staff together, including; Carla Cox – Forensic Toxicologist, Yomi Uday – Forensic Examiner, Jim Patel – Computer Forensics, David McNaughton had dialed in from home upstate, he specialized in fibers and, surprisingly, Erik Randle, Morgan’s superior.

Morgan concluded a summary of the story so far. “Right, so it’s looking like we have a perpetrator on our hands. Agreed?” She was met by murmurings and nods from the room, with the exemption of Dr Randle. Bloody politics. “Glad we all agree. Now as you know, case number three as hit the press, for all the wrong reasons, but even so, it’s out there. We know that this can have one of two effects on the perpetrator, unfortunately-“ We don't have our Criminal Phycologist present, she was about to say.

“Simone Sandberg has joined the conference.” The cheery spider phone chimed.

“Morning, Simone. That was serendipitous.” Morgan said, with flicker of a smile.

“Sorry, I’m late.” Apologized the woman in a thick Louisianan drawl. “I got your notes, but could you give me your own brief, just quickly.”

“Sure.” Morgan sighed, looking at her watch, only to discover a missed call and a text from the Lieutenant, ‘Coming over.’ That was send over twenty minutes ago. “Rose, go look for Lea- Lieutenant Rosenberg. She’s probably around my office, if she’s here. Bring her down here, but tell her she’s just here to listen.” Morgan muttered in the old woman’s ear before giving the Criminal Phycologist an overview.

“Well, how these things tend to work.” Dr Sandberg began. At this point the conference room door opened. Morgan nodded to a chair, indicating for, Leah to take a seat. The Doctor had never seen her colleague enter a room with anything less than a smile, but not today. Although she had obviously blown off some steam, right in Samson’s face, Morgan hoped, there was still a cloud over her. “How these things tend to work.” Sandberg tried again following a quick acknowledgement that the group had been joined by NYPD, “Keeping to the hypotheticals, this person is killing then raping men and he’s good at it, done it at least twice and not been caught, it sounds like an urge. And urge that as its fed gets stronger. Now, lots of factors are at play here- hormones, mental state, victimology – we said this guy was different from the last two, could show the urge to kill was really strong, hence why he went for this big guy, he was available. Maybe he swiped right, or whatever it is the kids are doing and engaged with this guy, victim 3 was the only one to do so in the time the killer had allowed himself get his release. To that end, whatever he used to strangle the victim, he probably had with him. Anyway, a lot of factors are at play here, but a big one will be attention. The attention he gets from these guys but also what attention he’s now got from the Times; I see the Post, Metro and Buzzfeed have run with it too.” Sex sells, Morgan thought. “So, the media coverage, it’ll go either way-”

“He’ll either be shit scared or have been insatiably fantasizing about doing it again.” Randle said gravely, stealing the woman’s thunder. Any wonder she had extended her maternity?

“No, I don’t think doing it again is quite right, Sir. He’ll want to do worse.” The last statement hung in the air for some time.

“Right, thank you everybody for your time. This is now being treated as a high priority, if you are asked for anything regarding this case, I dare say we’ll get a case code through from PD soon, you expedite it ASAP. McNaughton, appreciate if you can get down here and spend at least a day on the fibers from under the finger nails, Yomi, skin cells, hair, etc. from under the nails, let’s see if there’s any matches in the system. Carla your team need have the initials on the tox by tomorrow at 10:30.” At this Morgan’s eye’s flashed to, Leah, giving the Lieutenant a warnful look. She did not need nor want undermined in front of these people.

“I know you need them this afternoon, but there’s nothing I can do about that, Lieutenant.” Morgan sighed referring to the toxicology results as she closed Her office door behind her.

“What’s your problem? People pee on a stick and they are told that they have substances in their system, Doc.” Leah tried to joke, but underlying was stern seriousness.

“It’s not the same thing, and you fine well know it!” They went round in circles for 5 minutes. Until Morgan snapped, “It’s not my offices fault that you have had to schedule a press conference on this, Leah! One of the first things I said to you was what kind of show are you running here. I know Samson’s not your responsibility, but Jesus Christ-“

“You think this is my fault?!”

“I didn’t say that. My point is that people need to take accountability for their actions. Samson should be up there saying he provided false information, rather than us clearing up the mess. We’ve got bodies piling up down here, the last thing we need is to clean us NYPD’s mess as well.”

“Ok, Doc. Got it. Thanks. Press conference is at five, if you want to tune in and see this case look increasingly chaotic.” And with that disheartened parting, Leah left Dr Vincent’s office.

Hours later, frustratingly stuck in rush hour traffic, Morgan picked up her phone, “Carla, how are the looking?” Her toned leg, clad in a pair of fitted dress pants turned up at the ankle bounced on the floor of the patrol car.

“Hey Morgan, similar feedback to the last victim, good deal weaker though. However, these are typical of any overdose, can’t be sure they are definitely the same properties. Did them myself personally, like the last ones.”

“Ok, thanks. If there’s nothing else to do but for those tests to run, make yourself scarce, please.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re probably going to be heavily relied upon if this continues. Leave on time for a change.” Truth was, Morgan didn’t want Carla being questioned by anyone. If she was about to do something deceitful, she wasn’t about to bring someone else down with her.

Eventually the patrol car pulled up outside NYPD HQ. The Doctor made her way inside, once more taking the stairs two at a time as she unbuttoned her stylish black coat to reveal a crisp white blouse tucked in around her trim waist. She had been to the News Room a handful of times; its dates wood panel walls, American Flags and Plaques always made her feel like she was in some West Wing episode.

Greeted by security at the door to the room, Morgan had to show her brass badge twice before being allowed entry. “I ain’t supposed to let folks in once they’ve started.” Fortunately the two young men yielded and she slunk into the room.

Running a slender hand through her dark glossy mane, Leah’s amber eyes locked on her almost instantly. Morgan nodded.