With relatively few souls working the holiday week, the bullpen had cooled off considerably throughout the night, causing Steve to increase his coffee intake to stop shivering.
It hadn't taken long for the first set of phones to ring off the hook, anxious reporters begging for some insider knowledge ahead of the press conference that was scheduled for later in the day.
A little after twelve, one of the Patrol Sergeants from the crime scene had checked in, relaying a public request to set flowers down for a small memorial where Sullenger had been killed. Considering that the lab crew had swept through the area relatively fast, and the mortal brick was safely stored downstairs, Steve approved it. If nothing else, perhaps the added public interest might coax their killer out of his hideout, possibly even brag about the deed.
Stupider things had happened before.
Behind him, Steve heard the door to the glass-walled vestibule slowly open. Not giving it too much thought after Sekulovich had gone downstairs to grab some lunch, he never bothered to look up, until he sensed a presence next to his desk.
Beyond the high pitch of Mike's irritated voice behind closed office doors, as the Lieutenant was having an engaged conversation with the Chief, Steve could hear somebody clear their throat and shift from one foot to the other.
And with it came an overbearing odor of cinnamon, peppermint and other scents he couldn't identify amidst the aroma onslaught.
Glancing up from his desk, the young Inspector found himself face to face with a young lady, mid to late twenties, dressed in a form-fitting trench coat, her jet-black hair tied up with a red band that flowed down the back of her neck and disappeared in her collar.
"C...Can I help you?", he stammered surprised, then grew suspicious, when the lady's warm blue eyes scanned his knowingly.
"The smeared windshield…the grey car. You are the one who found the body."
Caught entirely off guard, Steve turned around in his chair to get a better look at the lady, brows furrowed.
"I beg your pardon?"
Pointing at the case report he'd began to fill out by hand, she chuckled slightly, as if his reaction was a surprise to her.
"I recognize your hands. Your clean fingernails. Your scar right…here…"
Reaching forward, she carefully pointed at a spot near his elbow, well hidden beneath his blue plaid dress shirt. A spot where a well-known local drug dealer had buried a switchblade in his arm years ago.
Freezing in his spot, Steve glanced up, feeling somewhat intimidated by the strange lady who seemed to know so much. Her warm smile and eclectic aura were most definitely a welcome change in an office that so often felt like the epicenter of human tragedy and vileness.
With a youthful chuckle, she circled his desk to take a look at his name plate, before stretching out her hand.
"Unless you are sitting at the wrong desk, it's nice to meet you, Detective S. Keller. My name is Andrea. And I need to talk to you and your partner about the murder that happened this morning."