I can still see it. I can always see it. It's always there with me.

It's the black and white video tape that always plays in my dreams.

There's the coolers, the aisles of junk food and other miscellaneous crap … and then, there she is.

Lara.

She's so cute and innocent. She's minding her own business, riffling through an assortment of candies until she picks out a bag of Skittles and a bag of M&Ms and goes to pay for them.

That's when everything gets dark and it switches to slow motion.

The gunman comes and yells at the cashier and Lara. His hands are shaking and he's sweating, but he knows what he's doing. No matter what the drugs ripping apart his brain are doing to him, no matter what his reasoning is, it's still all his fault.

And then he screams again, something like "Don't make me do this!" and shoots the cashier just before he shoots her…

and she slides down to ground and my heart stops just as hers does…

and the asshole gets away. Shaking, sweating, swearing, scared, but he still gets away.

And that's when my phone goes off, and tears me from my nightmare. I turn my head and see the digital clock read 4:39, yet another reason to I should quit my job.

"Yes? …. Where? … The Planet? …. I'm on my way."

I sigh and roll out of bed, but not before my hand grazes over the cool side of the bed out of habit. You'd think I'd stop doing this to myself after three years, but no.
I get dressed quickly and run off a check list in my head:

Shirt
Jacket
Pants
Belt
Holster
Badge
Gun

I'm out the door in less than five minutes and headed to the crime scene. I'm slightly nauseous from last night, but I don't let bother me. The more I work, the less I time I have to think about her. The less I think about her…I don't know.

I pull up to The Planet and it's already taped off with, complete with lights flashing and anybody awake gawking at the scene. I step out and I'm immediately face to face with Officer Williams.

"Detective Morales," she greets me.
"Officer Williams."
"Sorry to wake you, but we've got a little situation."
"It's okay. It didn't seem like I'd be getting a lot of sleep tonight anyway. What do we got?"
"You're gonna have to see this one to believe it."

I shrug and she leads me inside this club that's apparently a coffee shop during the day. There's a fancy bar, some tables and dance floor. It looks like a nice place, but it's mostly empty, except for a few cops sitting around.

"Where is everybody?"
"Oh, this isn't the crime scene." Williams motions me forward and brings me to a door. "There is your crime scene."

I open the door and stand still. There's a girl up stuck against the window with her arms spread apart and her head hanging down. Her hair is a mess and she's almost a sickly yellow. There are bruises all over her face and dried blood on her shirt. At her feet there's a piece of paper written in blood that says "Fallen Angel".

My mouth hung open in disbelief until I finally let out, "It's a like a…"
"A crucifix," someone next to me finished.

I turn my head and see this tall, skinny, figure leaning on the other side of the door. The first thing that comes to mind is Who is this 16 year old boy on my crime scene?


"Officer Williams, who is this?" I ask instead.
"Sorry," the figure says, turning to me, offering a hand and smile. "I'm Shane McCutcheon."

I give her a blank stare.

"Uh, Detective Shane McCutcheon, LAPD. Are you Detective Morales?"

I nod.

"Then I guess that makes me your new partner."
"Excuse me?"

TBC