"Blurred"

CHAPTER ONE

Greg Sanders knocked his book off the table. With a clatter to wake the dead (or at least to startle those who had not yet had coffee), it crashed to the floor and he jumped. As he bent to retrieve it, he noticed a foreign pair of shoes in the break room.

"Howdy," said Greg to the shoes, who he knew belonged to his Texan colleague, Nick Stokes.

"Hey, Greg," said Nick. "Have you seen Catherine?"

"No," said Greg. "Why?"

"Just had to see if she got those results processed yet," Nick said quietly, and Greg knew he was rattled about the case.

"I heard about your case," said Greg. "Tough one."

"To say the least," said Nick, taking the seat opposite Greg. "I'll never understand how someone can hit their own kid."

"Yeah."

Both men sat quietly for a moment, pensively sipping coffee and thinking about their separate cases. While Nick worked on the child-abuse-turned-homicide case of a four-year-old boy, Greg also had his hands full with a case that wasn't quite as taxing on the heartstrings, but was certainly taxing on the body. His involved a man who had apparently been hanged on a line pulled between his house and a tree in his yard with no signs of there ever being a ladder anywhere in the soil, which meant that Greg and Sara had been climbing up and down stairs and branches steadily for about eight hours the day previous. Greg's hands and legs were more than a little sore, and he was sure Sara felt the same way. He wondered idly if the cut on her knee had gotten any better. He'd helped her patch it at the crime scene, but knowing her, she was likely to just ignore any pain it caused her for the rest of the healing process.

And speak of the devil – who looked particularly dishevelled tonight – Sara herself came bustling around the corner with a few papers she'd written all over. She smacked them down in front of Greg, nearly knocking his coffee over.

"I can't even see my calculations anymore. They've gone blurry," she said in a slightly hoarse voice.

"Hi, Sara," said Nick from behind her.

"Hi," said Sara without turning around. "I've done this a thousand times and it's physically impossible for him to have hanged himself. Or for someone to have hanged him. Greg, you figure it out."

With that, Sara shoved the papers even closer to Greg and stalked off.

"Isn't she lovely when she can't solve something?" said Nick to the slightly shell-shocked Greg.

Greg, however, wasn't listening. He got up and bolted after Sara, suddenly struck with an idea.

"Sara!"

Sara turned halfway down the hallway and waited for Greg to catch up.

"No one could have hanged him, right? Given the way he tied it all and everything," said Greg. "And he couldn't have done it to himself because how could he have gotten up there without help, right?"

"Reiterating what I just told you isn't a forward step, Greg," said Sara waspishly.

"Look," said Greg, handing her his coffee in the hopes that she could perk up a bit. "What I'm saying is maybe that's not where he died at all."

Sara took a sip of his coffee and stared blankly at Greg for a moment. "I hate it when it's that obvious and I didn't think of it."

"Just a thought," said Greg. "But how did he get up there at all, then?"

"Good question. I guess we need to find the answer."