Detectives Monroe and Ricci who had come to take control of the scene from the local Sheriff’s office weren’t interested in standing in Lynn’s way like she feared they would be. If anything, they were eager to hand over the case to someone else. Up-close, both men look like they’d been working back-to-back shifts—sunken, blood-shot eyes, crumpled shirts to go with their wrinkled pants and an odor of coffee that seemed to exude from their pores.
“We think it’s best if someone from the city came to take this over,” Ricci said in a thick New York accent. “Seeing as the victim is from there.”
“Two detectives are already enroute from the 96th Precinct,” Monroe added hastily, and Lynn detected a hint of remorse in his voice. For throwing in the towel so fast, perhaps.
“We don’t get many cases
