She had a picture of Raul in one hand and a damp tissue in the other. It was her first day back at work since Raul’s funeral, and she was having a hard time knowing where to start on the stack of folders that had piled up while she was gone. A knock on her door brought her out of her trance.

A tall man walked in, dressed in a cheap, grey suit with a loosened, blue tie. He was Caucasian with black hair and brown eyes, and although he was dressed sloppily, Angelina could tell he took care of himself; he had a spring in his step one usually only saw in younger men. He held a police badge open in his hand. “Dr. Suarez?”

“Yes, may I help you?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m Detective Larry Rhodes. I’m with the Miami Metro Police.” He stepp...

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