Chapter One: Junkie Heaven

Detective Sarah Linden turned the corner toward her office, catching a glimpse of her partner, Stephen Holder, before he could see her. His shoulders were slumped, and the circles under his eyes were more pronounced than usual. She wasn't very excited to give him the news that they had caught another case because they hadn't even completely finished up the final paperwork from their previous case.

She and Holder shared a common belief that it was their responsibility to do everything in their power to solve even the hardest cases that often didn't appear to be solvable. Many of their colleagues, however, didn't share their belief and often passed off cases that might negatively affect their personal lives and case closure rates. Linden and Holder believed that all victims deserved to have someone looking out for them and bring their perpetrator to justice.

As she entered the room, she saw Holder sit up a little straighter in his chair and clear his throat. She wondered if he really thought he was fooling her. He looked exhausted, and she was, too.

"I hate to tell you..." she started to say.

"What? We caught another one already? For real?" Holder interrupted, his eyes dropping to the stacks of papers on the desk and his facial expression losing its last bit of spark.

Linden stood in front of him, forcing a small smile that caused a crease between her eyes. "I'll drive. You can rest your eyes on the way."

Holder got up off his chair and followed her out of the precinct. His partner never seemed to need sleep—or food—or anything else for that matter. He didn't know how she kept going with just coffee and cigarettes; he needed more. But at this moment, he decided to follow her lead. He jumped into the car, slumping down into the seat and putting his head back into the headrest as he stared up at the ceiling.

Sarah smiled at him even though she knew he didn't see her. Their relationship was different than any relationship she had ever had with everyone else. He was sometimes her friend, sometimes her antagonist, sometimes her brother, sometimes her confidant, sometimes her partner, and sometimes he was the only one she could trust. They had grown a lot during their time working together, and she never thought she would come to depend on and care for him as much as she did. She knew that he cared for her, too. She was one of the few people in his life who actually knew what it was like to grow up among so much dysfunction that the nuances of social norms could never be fully learned. Both were painfully aware that class was something that people were born into.

They traveled in silence the 20 minutes to the flophouse that was called in as the scene of the murder. As she parked the car, she looked over at Holder who had apparently drifted to sleep. "Holder," she quietly said as she touched his arm, "We're here."

Holder startled to a semiconscious state. He inhaled deeply and rubbed his eyes.

Sarah calculated that they both had last had any sleep about 60 and a half hours ago. She knew it wasn't healthy to be sleep deprived, but sleep was usually a luxury in a detective's line of work-especially a homicide detective who had a penchant for difficult cases.

Holder inhaled deeply again as he stared up at the flophouse. "Junkie heaven," he mumbled to himself. He hated having to go back into those situations—not because he was judgmental but mainly because he didn't fully trust himself. Even though he had been clean for two years, seven months, three weeks, and five days, he still had a deep craving for crystal. When he went to NA during the first few months of trying to get clean, they had promised him that his appetite for his drug of choice would lessen in time, but he still felt it strongly each waking moment of each day.

Sarah was already out of the car and talking with the uniform officers taping off the entrance of the run-down house.

Holder sighed deeply as he pulled the handle and got out of the car, joining Linden near the front door that had been busted down in the police raid. Many of the uni's revealed their obvious displeasure with the odor emitting from the house, but Holder was accustomed to smelling the stench of poverty.

Sarah was the first to walk inside. Holder followed in silence. He was rarely quiet, and Sarah knew that this scene was hitting it too close to home—on several levels—for him.

Two strung-out tweakers were sitting handcuffed on the stained, dilapidated sofa. The woman was pale and white and looked to be the typical skank whore with rotten teeth and visible sores on the exposed parts of her arms and face. Her clothing was soiled from apparently being worn for many days without being laundered. The man was black and looked like the typical gangster wannabe with clothing similar to Holder's style.

Without looking at the couple, Holder asked in an agitated tone, "Some junkie get diced?"

"This one's not good, Holder," Sarah answered as she turned to walk down the hallway of the filthy, roach infested house where a conglomerate of uniforms were standing and speaking in muffled tones. Holder caught up with Linden, and the uni's parted the way for them to enter into the room.

Sarah gasped as she saw the stiff, boney frame of a little boy who was still tied to the radiator in the corner of the room. He was clad only in grungy underpants despite the frigid temperatures of the early winter month. His skin was grey, looking as if it were tightly wrapped around his bones. His head and bloated stomach appeared to be too large for his tiny body, and his mouth was agape as if he had struggled for every remaining breath. His eyes were large and sunken into his face, staring up at the ceiling. For a split second, Sarah thought about Holder, recalling him staring at the car's ceiling during their ride to this horrific scene.

"Jesus, he couldn't be more than seven," Holder said as he turned away from the gruesome sight.

"He's actually ten," one of the officers responded.

"Whatever…same difference," Holder interrupted.

The uni continued, "School social worker called it in. Hadn't been to school for almost two weeks."

"What the fuck took 'em so long to notice he wadn't there?" Holder asked, showing his horror at the situation. "A half-pint like this would probably starve to death in a week or so! It took 'em that long to notice?" Holder yelled.

"Holder," Sarah said as she placed her hand on his elbow.

Holder turned around and remembered that Sarah was also there. He felt the sensation in his gut to vomit, but he breathed in and out heavily to gain control of himself. He started pacing, his breathing becoming more and more erratic. "Shit Linden...shit...shit," he muttered.

Sarah then became aware that Holder was past being able to regain control of himself. "Listen Holder, you go outside and I'll finish up here. I'll meet you in a few," she offered, noticing that Holder wasn't paying attention to her as he continued to pace the floor in front of the small alien-looking dead boy. She then grabbed his wrist hard and squeezed until he stopped.

He made eye-contact with her and inhaled deeply.

"I need you outside…okay?" she repeated.

Holder stepped back, looked at the dead boy again, then answered, "Okay, Linden."

The uni's stepped out of Holder's way as he walked toward the door. He turned to look at Sarah. She shook her head in the affirmative, and he responded by shaking his head slightly up and down as well.

Sarah continued to take notes and watch the crime scene techs gather evidence and snap photos. A few moments later she heard Holder yelling loudly and a commotion coming from the room where the couple was seated and being guarded by several uni's.

"Shit!" Sarah spat under her breath as she headed out of the boy's bedroom toward the disturbance she presumed was Holder. Four uni's were holding him back and more were running toward the young homicide detective who appeared to have lost his mind. The screaming was escalating as more and more uni's ran into the mix to help control the raving mad detective. Sarah ran forward, but by the time she reached the group, Holder had been knocked to the floor and was on the bottom of the pile of uni's.

The two tweakers continued to sit expressionless on the couch completely un-phased by the rantings of the young detective.

"Get off him!" Sarah yelled as she grabbed some of the uni's and tried pulling them off the pile of men with Holder clearly being squashed on the bottom.

"He was acting crazy," one of the uniform cops responded to her.

"Just get off him and I'll take care of this," Sarah ordered. "Now!" she screamed with barely a pause.

The men got off Holder who continued to lie in the floor.

"Get him to his feet…please," Sarah asked, using a nicer tone this time.

The men looked around at one another, and two reached down and pulled Holder onto his feet. His nose was bloody, and his eyes were half-closed. As they held him up, he appeared to be unsteady on his feet.

"Holder, can you walk?" Linden asked. She reached forward and grabbed his jaw to lift up his chin that was resting on his chest. "Holder? Holder?"

He looked up at her and then back down to the floor, his eyes feeling extremely heavy. "That skank openly admitted they beat the kid and tied him to the radiator!" Holder ranted.

The cops around them turned toward Linden and shot her expressions of disbelief. One retorted, "Those tweakers are so out of it that they're not even capable of putting two words together between them."

Holder grunted then released his weight against the two uni's who held him tighter so he wouldn't get out from underneath their grasp.

Linden looked from Holder to the uni's then stated, "Please help my partner to our car."

"Linden," Holder protested, "They're tweaked out of their skulls, but I know what I heard." He stared at Linden a few moments, trying to wriggle free of the tight grasp the cops had on him.

Linden looked at Holder for a moment then motioned toward the door. The uni's turned toward the door, all but dragging the young detective behind them. Sarah followed. As they reached their car, Sarah opened the passenger door and watched as one of the uni's pushed Holder down into the seat. Sarah nodded at the two uni's, and they nodded back then turned back toward the house. After Holder pulled his legs into the car, Sarah slammed the door, walked to the driver's side, and huffed as she sat down behind the wheel.

"Shit Holder, we don't have time for this. You need to pull it together," Sarah scolded. She turned around to glare at him to make sure he knew she meant business.

Holder sat silently with his head against the headrest staring at the ceiling. His eyes were half-closed and blood kept oozing out of his nose, running down his chin and neck and onto his hoodie.

"Do you hear me, Stephen?" she asked with her tone actually getting lower, sounding less angry.

Holder could hear her but felt like they were far away from each other. He wasn't sure that he could even form an intelligent sentence in response. He then closed his eyes.

Sarah took this as his cue for her to move on—literally and figuratively. She started the ignition then glanced back at him, rooting around for the fast-food napkins that they kept tucked away in the car's glovebox. She grabbed several and nudged his shoulder with it so he would clean up his face.

He made no movement or effort at first, then sighed heavily and took the napkins from her and swiped at the bloody stream running through his facial hair and down his neck. He then crumpled up the napkins and shoved them into his jacket pocket.

Linden put the car into drive, squealing the tires as she headed toward her home. "Listen, Holder. Let's re-group by first getting some food and sleep…okay?"

No response.

"Can you hear me Stephen?" she asked in a louder tone.

Holder turned to face Sarah, his hollow blood-shot eyes disclosing his distress with the situation.

"Talk to me please, Holder," she pleaded.

Still facing her, Holder closed his eyes.

Sarah decided it was best to give him the space he obviously needed. She heard a few moments later his rhythmic breathing indicating that he had gone back to sleep. They had been through a lot together, but she had never seen him like this before. She remembered very early in their partnership that he had nonchalantly told her that his mother often had boyfriends who would beat him to get to his mother. Was it that or the meth house? Exhaustion? Maybe a combination of it all? Whatever it was, Sarah was worried about him. He was always the comic relief to their stressful situations. She continued to drive onward, realizing that she desperately needed sleep as well.

45 minutes later, she pulled in front of her home. She hated to wake him, but he needed to be in a more comfortable place to get a more restful sleep. "Stephen," she quietly said as she gingerly stroked his upper arm.

He jumped upwards in his seat and panted as he began looking around the car, his eyes wide with fright.

"It's just me," Sarah reassured. She could tell that he was concentrating on his breathing.

"What the fuck?" Holder asked when he recognized he was in front of Sarah's home.

"We need some time to sleep so we can work our case in the morning," she answered.

"Sarah Linden's gonna take time to crash? OMG! Call the papers! That's a headliner!"

You can joke all you want, but I can't have you spazzing out on me again."

Holder's eyes widened again as he remembered the dead boy. "Oh my God, Linden. That boy…oh my God."

"I know, it's bad," she agreed. "Is there something else?"

He frowned at her. "What do ya mean?"

"Come on Holder, you know what I mean."

Holder sat back in the seat. "Let's go in. You makin' food?"

Linden grabbed his arm. "You can't get out of this this easy," she responded.

"For real? I ain't getting' outta nothin', Linden. I'm hungry…and tired. Give me a break for once, please! We ain't married or nothin'!" Holder quipped.

"Okay, Holder," Linden said. "I can make some sandwiches. Are you embracing meat this week?"

Holder smiled at her as he got out of the car.

She returned his smile. She knew something was not right with him and he would talk when he was ready. They walked together up the sidewalk toward her front door, Sarah in the lead. "You're going to need to wash the rest of that blood off your face," Linden stated as she turned around to face him as she inserted the key into her door.

Holder reached up and touched his nose, feeling the dried, sticky blood that was still in his mustache and chin. He gave Linden a guilty look.

"The uni's tackled you because they thought for sure you were going to kill the junkies."

"Oh," Holder responded.

Linden was surprised that that was his only response.

As they got into her home, Holder asked, "How 'bout grilled cheese?"

Sarah turned around and gave him an annoyed look. Grilling the sandwiches was more than she was willing to commit to cooking.

"Yo, you want me to be the master chef?" he asked.

"Probably so," Sarah answered. "You shower first, though," she offered, handing him a folded up towel. "I'll get the food out, and then you can do the cooking while I shower."

"Fair 'nuf," Holder responded as he walked toward her bathroom.

A few minutes later she could hear the water running. She sat at her kitchen table warming her cold hands on a cup of coffee that she had microwaved that had been left over in the pot from the day before. Jumping with the shrill of her cell phone, Linden pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket. "Linden," she said.

It was a uni at the precinct. The tweakers were coming down from their high, and the man had warned that there would be no evidence against him, and he was demanding to be released. The woman, on the other hand, was still barely able to speak beyond guttural grunts.

"Just keep them in lock up to give us time to re-group over here," Linden stated.

"Oh, yeah. I heard about Holder. The lieutenant is pretty pissed at him. Tell him that he has some explaining to do when he gets in here in the morning," the uni answered.

"He's wiped out…we both are. Just buy us some time…okay?" Linden asked. She had barely finished her sentence when she caught Holder in her peripheral view. He was barefoot and drying his hair with the towel she had given him and was carrying his bloody hoodie. Linden then clicked off her cell phone and looked up at Holder who continued to stand in front of her.

"What now?" Holder asked.

"Nothing. I just told them to hang on to the junkies until the morning to give us time to eat and sleep. The boy is at the morgue."

Holder just nodded several times then walked toward her kitchen. "You call dis cheese, Linden?" he asked as he turned around fanning a piece of Kraft sandwich cheese wrapped in plastic in front of his face.

Sarah just looked at him and smiled. There was the Holder she knew.

"This ain't nothing but oil with a little orange food coloring. Shit. Rats don't even eat this shit."

"Beggars can't be…"

"I ain't no beggar," Holder bantered back.

"Just make the damn sandwiches," Linden said over her shoulder as she walked toward the bathroom to shower.

Holder turned around toward the stove and surveyed the food she had set out for him to work with. "I gotta be some magic genie, I guess," he mumbled to himself. "This shit is nasty." He liked being there with Linden, though. It felt good…gave him a sense of peace, a sense of belonging. So if he had to work with crappy ingredients and prepare something for them to eat, then so be it. He would do that. He would definitely do that for Sarah.

They ate in relative quiet—both too tired to force the conversation. Sarah could see Holder struggling to keep his eyes open and remembered that he was still not as accustomed to sleep deprivation as she was. She then got up and brought him a pillow and blanket and motioned toward the sofa. "I'll take care of clean up. You go ahead and get some sleep. We have an early start in the morning," she said as she thrust the blanket and pillow into his arms.

Holder got up from the table and obeyed. He was still dressed in only his jeans and wife-beater tee.

"Are you warm enough?" Sarah asked.

Holder shook his head up and down while not raising it from the pillow.

She smiled at him then turned to clean up the counter and go to bed herself. It had been a rough few days as they closed their last case and headed blindly into this recent one. She had never in real life seen a child who had been so neglected—even in all of her years in the system. The image of the little boy with the bloated stomach and boney frame would not get out of her mind. She had seen pictures like that in the National Geographic of African children dying of starvation, but never in this country did she think she would encounter such a sight. She wondered how Jack was doing at his Dad's in Chicago, and then laughed to herself at Holder eating the cheese he had called oily food coloring. One thing was for sure, Holder kept her amused. She then heard him mumble, so she turned in his direction on the sofa to see what he wanted. He was still sleeping, so he must be one of those people who talks in his sleep. That amused her. Smiling at him one last moment, she then turned off the lights and went to her room. Sleep was beckoning her, too.

TBC