THIRTY-SEVEN
McCall sat at her desk, flicking through the case files on her desk. She had the feeling that all these deaths were connected somehow, but she didn’t know how. The bullpen was even more chaotic than usual, the department was short-staffed and spread thinly, due to a UN meeting over the illegal arms sales in Africa and the Middle East, where each department had to give up some of its people to help with security. McCall looked up at the clock. The hands showed it was nearly five and soon she would be soaking in a tub with lots of bubbles and a glass of red. Her daydream was shattered by her desk phone ringing, shocking her slightly.
“Homicide – Detective McCall.” The other end was quiet except for the sound of a woman sobbing.
“Hello, is there someone there, are you hurt or
