p style="text-align: left;"The things people did to each other were horrific. Claire Cicero closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth, but that didn't help. The metallic sting of all the blood was on her tongue and the back of her throat. The image of a ruined body left for dead was burned on the back of her eyelids./p
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p style="text-align: left;""CeeCee, you okay?"/p
p style="text-align: left;"She blinked, nodding already before even meeting Trevor Davis's gaze. The other detective was eyeing her up with concern, hand on her elbow. He was about ten years' her senior but had always taken a fatherly role with her more than senior officer, even though she'd been working for the San Joaquin's Sheriff's Department for ten years already./p
p style="text-align: left;"She'd never seen this kind of shit before. This was beyond traffic violations and parade security. They might have to start doing real law enforcement work here./p
p style="text-align: left;"The vice squad was made up of men. They'd already asked her to be bait for this prick, and she told them she would. Now she was scared. Not because of what she saw in the bathroom of this fleabag motel. Because she knew who had done this./p
p style="text-align: left;"Claire had been at this motel bar the night before. She saw the man who had led this platinum blonde out of the bar right past her./p
p style="text-align: left;"She was torn. She could describe him, she knew she could. Then she'd have to answer why she was at this bar the night before, and that would be uncomfortable for a few reasons. The main reason was standing behind her. She looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Mark Trenton, tall in uniform, watching the door, keeping non-law-enforcement people out of sight of the scene./p
p style="text-align: left;"He wore the shit out of his uniform. The sleeves were tight on his biceps, the front snug across his chest. And don't even get her started on how the pants fit his ass. Of course it was physical between them. The night before they'd met at the bar for a beer then went to a room on the other wing of the motel for a couple of hours./p
p style="text-align: left;"They emhad /emto meet at the hotel; his wife wouldn't want to see his car at the neighbour's house./p
p style="text-align: left;"Claire looked back at the body, ignoring the fact she was a shitty member of the "sisterhood" for fucking around with a married man. Her transgressions weren't going to help this woman lying in a pool of her own blood on the floor./p
p style="text-align: left;""I think it's time we really consider starting a sting operation to catch this prick," Deputy Davis mumbled./p
p style="text-align: left;"Claire nodded. "Yeah."/p
p style="text-align: left;"strongThis entire story can be found on The Freak Circle Press Blog at fan-fiction/c-d-breadnerfuzzypeaches1/strong/p
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p style="text-align: left;" /p
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p style="text-align: left;""CeeCee, you okay?"/p
p style="text-align: left;"She blinked, nodding already before even meeting Trevor Davis's gaze. The other detective was eyeing her up with concern, hand on her elbow. He was about ten years' her senior but had always taken a fatherly role with her more than senior officer, even though she'd been working for the San Joaquin's Sheriff's Department for ten years already./p
p style="text-align: left;"She'd never seen this kind of shit before. This was beyond traffic violations and parade security. They might have to start doing real law enforcement work here./p
p style="text-align: left;"The vice squad was made up of men. They'd already asked her to be bait for this prick, and she told them she would. Now she was scared. Not because of what she saw in the bathroom of this fleabag motel. Because she knew who had done this./p
p style="text-align: left;"Claire had been at this motel bar the night before. She saw the man who had led this platinum blonde out of the bar right past her./p
p style="text-align: left;"She was torn. She could describe him, she knew she could. Then she'd have to answer why she was at this bar the night before, and that would be uncomfortable for a few reasons. The main reason was standing behind her. She looked over her shoulder, catching sight of Mark Trenton, tall in uniform, watching the door, keeping non-law-enforcement people out of sight of the scene./p
p style="text-align: left;"He wore the shit out of his uniform. The sleeves were tight on his biceps, the front snug across his chest. And don't even get her started on how the pants fit his ass. Of course it was physical between them. The night before they'd met at the bar for a beer then went to a room on the other wing of the motel for a couple of hours./p
p style="text-align: left;"They emhad /emto meet at the hotel; his wife wouldn't want to see his car at the neighbour's house./p
p style="text-align: left;"Claire looked back at the body, ignoring the fact she was a shitty member of the "sisterhood" for fucking around with a married man. Her transgressions weren't going to help this woman lying in a pool of her own blood on the floor./p
p style="text-align: left;""I think it's time we really consider starting a sting operation to catch this prick," Deputy Davis mumbled./p
p style="text-align: left;"Claire nodded. "Yeah."/p
p style="text-align: left;"strongThis entire story can be found on The Freak Circle Press Blog at fan-fiction/c-d-breadnerfuzzypeaches1/strong/p
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p style="text-align: left;" /p
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