A man laid crumpled on the bathroom floor in a pool of blood and shattered glass, a gun inches from his right hand. A suicide: male, Caucasian, medium height, brownish hair. He was lying on his stomach, face down in his own blood, his jeans filled with feces. The bathroom had been taped off as soon as the local police arrived, and other than a few crime scene photographers, no one had been allowed to touch the body. They were waiting for a specialist; Marcia Caldwell, top detective for New York State, crime scene genius and notorious bitch. Once she gave her approval, the body could be moved, the family would be notified, the remains would be embalmed, arrangements could be made… but none of that could be done until Marcia put her stamp on the whole stinking, bloody mess.
Officer Anthony Romeo took a sip of coffee and glanced at his cell phone. Where was she? He had long since let the rest of his team go home. It was a week before Christmas and people wanted to be with their families. Hell, he wanted to be with his. His son’s school play had already started… if Marcia got here soon, he might be able to catch the end of it. Turn on his siren, run a few red lights, abuse his power… his poor son. It felt like every time Marcia was late, he missed something else; a baseball game, a movie night, and now the big play. If he were his son…he checked his phone again and sighed. He contemplated leaving early, but knew that leaving the body alone was such a huge breach of protocol that he would without a doubt get shit canned. As long as someone was here to make sure no one tampered with the evidence, he could go, but until then, he was stuck…