Evelyn Pike woke to the incessant bleeping of her alarm clock and dog drool all over her face. Shoving Cooper off herself, she slapped the off button and shuffled to the shower.

Dressed and ready, Eve put a container of some of her leftovers in her bag and hastily went out the door. Risking a trip on the grimy bus to the repair shop, she thankfully got her car back. As promised, she was precisely 35 minutes early.

Making her way down the Bureau of Investigative Services, she took a right instead of a left and went up the elevator, feeling out of place surrounded by office desks and unfamiliar people. They were just starting to trickle in, giving her no more than a passing glance. Naturally, none of Evelyn's unease made it to her face. She just kind of stood in the background, hoping for somebody who could direct her to Detective Sullivan. Please, please, please just show up and not let me make a fool of myself, Sullivan! Pike prayed silently.

Almost as if he had heard her, a man in a suit with close-cropped hair and dark brown eyes stepped out of the entrance and curled a finger towards her twice in the universal sign for come here. He had a hard jaw and a nose that was a tiny bit too large for his face, but long eyelashes, russet hair, and worry lines. He towered over Evelyn's mere 5 feet and 3 inches. Despite the worry lines and formidable stature, he looked about Evelyn's age. She wondered if he had joined the force right out of college to get so far so fast. Almost everyone nodded as they passed him, whether out of respect or recognition, Pike didn't know.

Striding with false confidence over to him, the detective was mentally calculating her chances of not making a fool of herself today. The results were not promising.

"Detective Sullivan?" Eve asked when she was standing in front of him.

He nodded and gave a sympathetic smile. "Come with me to the conference room. I'll get you caught up."

Detective Pike followed him gratefully into a stark white room with office chairs placed around a long, black table. He pulled out a chair, sat, and gestured Pike to take a seat.

"So, I hear you're new to the whole detective thing. I thought that we could go over the case file here together and get you started."

"Sure. That'd be great. Thanks."

"Good. Now," he said, opening the case file he had been carrying earlier, "we just got an anonymous tip on a big-time dealer a few miles south of here. His name is Antonio Moretti." Sullivan slid a picture over to Pike. The mug shot portrayed a sour-faced Italian with extensive tattoos, a squashed up nose, and a square jaw. He gave off the impression of being a tough guy, but on closer inspection, he wasn't outrageously built. His face gave the message "mess with me and I'll rip your face off." He wasn't threating, but people could take one look and know he didn't tolerate any form of crap from anyone.

"How big is his organization?" Pike asked.

"Glad you asked. Not too big, but well stocked and armed. Antonio is thought to be responsible for a few murders, but we could never pin it on him. Just his buddies. The tip said that today something is going down at a warehouse. Possibly a shipment. They didn't specify. We have guys down there now, scouting the place. Take a look at the file, and then if you have any questions I'll answer them at the briefing in a couple of minutes."

"Uh-huh" Evelyn responded, already concentrated on the file. Unnoticed by Pike, Detective Adrian Sullivan gave her a curious look before softly getting up and leaving Pike to herself to assess the information.

God, I hate stakeouts, Evelyn thought. It was so boring. Sitting in a car, silently, waiting for something interesting to happen.

She was stationed in Sullivan's car, though technically it was a government owned undercover vehicle. It was a dull gray ford Taurus, and there were two others like it within a block's distance. It was around six, and they had been sitting for hours. At the beginning, Adrian had tried to fill the silence with small talk about the investigation, but they had both long since given up. Another minute of this monotony was going to kill her.

Finally, she thought as she mentally thanked the thugs unloading from a silver SUV. Oblivious to the cops a mere hundred yards away, they all headed in the general direction of the warehouse carrying duffel bags. In the front was their friend Mr. Moretti. He carried no bags, and was dressed in a simple black t-shirt and baggy shorts. He had a buzz cut, and a rosary hanging from his neck. Hand on the door, she looked to her new partner/mentor for instructions on how to proceed, but he shook his head.

"There may be more. And we can't get him for more than possession right now. Not nearly enough. We wait."

Ten minutes and two more SUV arrivals later, Sullivan gave the signal to surround the area and get a look inside. Guns drawn, the strike team silently approached the building and peeked through the windows. What they saw was not a pretty sight.

There was a pool of blood in the middle of the room in front of an obese man. The man, Eve realized, was Moretti's second-in-command. He was being held by two of the goons, and his face was battered and bloody. There was a growing red spot in his chest as he looked up at his boss. Moretti was holding a gun about 10 feet away. And around five cops had just witnessed him shoot a man. Oh, he was so going down.

The team leader gave the 'go' signal, and they kicked down doors and started screaming orders at the top of their lungs. Another day, another dollar, 12 arrests and 11 convictions. The second in command got off because he was, apparently, the informer and has suffered minor injuries because the slug hadn't hit any vital organs. This whole detective thing was looking better by the minute.