Numb—the only word that can describe Detective Cynthia Jones. She’s been sitting in the lobby of the precinct for hours senseless, unaware of how long.
“We’ll take care of it. We’re on it. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Captain Rowland says escorting Cynthia to his patrol car. “We’ll find those responsible. Let’s get you home.”
Just like that, her partner, Kenneth Miller was killed returning home from his shift earlier in the day. Flags were lowered at half staff around the city and the Mayor and Police Chief vowed to find his killers. With Kenneth’s sudden departure, there wasn’t even a sign to hold onto for a God’s sake.
Cynthia’s vision blurs; the Vogue magazines on her table are swimming around. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was so close, having the perfect partner on the force and was finally in love. Kenneth and Cynthia dated for close to six months after meeting on the force. He had proposed to her just two weeks ago, only to have him ripped away.
Cynthia curls up on the couch, drifting until someone knocks.