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I think I ratefully let sleep draw me back under

The computer screen blurred before his eyes and Michael pinched the bridge of his nose as if it would somehow relieve the ache in his sinuses Why did he think switching to night shift was a good idea? It was now 6:00 am, well past the end of his shift, and he was only just finishing his report on the hoht with

It looked like it would be a rare open-and-shut case

They’d been called to an apartht-year-old woman had announced she’d shot her boyfriend in the kitchen

Fuck, it had been a mess

She’d shot him in the head

Hours later in the interview rooht shift she’d suspected her boyfriend was cheating, he’d confessed when she interrogated him (her words), and she’d lost her temper and shot him in the head with her 380

She’d been chillingly cool, and Michael didn’t know if it was shock, if there was ultimately more to the story, or if she was a psychopath He’d arrested her, written the report, and they’d wait to see if forensics corroborated her story

“Mornin’, Detective,” a bright, cheery voice called

He looked past his co redheaded ad at him from the coffee machine He couldn’t re her a fatigued nod, he turned back to his report and saved it

“I think she likes you”

Michael glanced over his shoulder and up Christ, he was so tired he hadn’t heard anyone approach Getting his body used to a new shift pattern was harder now than it used to be when he was younger

Nick Bronson stood at his desk He and Bronson had coether

“You look too fuckin’ awake,” Michael groaned

Bronson clapped him on the shoulder “Maybe the redhead ake you up”