Most of the day shift has already left and gone home to their wives or partners, their kids, their beer and whiskey chasers. But even though Chief Homicide Detective Nick Miller has a home to go to, it’s as empty as a church and just as haunted by the memory of his late wife. She’s been gone more years than he cares to remember, but somehow, they only parted ways just this morning.
He still smells her, feels her tender touch, sees the way she shakes out her long dark hair immediately after shampooing it in the shower, listens to her humming a soft, happy tune to herself. Mostly, he hears her warm, soft voice whispering in his ear. “I love you, Nick Miller. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Did she really ever say that to him in quite that way? Sweet memories, nonetheless.
But then you can’
