Touch
He hadn't meant to, but when he'd pulled away from Dinkins' chest, his hand had accidentally touched the kid's skin.
Since then, Jim's been in snowstorms and on stake-outs with a busted heater, and in one particularly exciting instance, locked in a freezer, but he's never felt anything as cold as Dinkins' dead, musty skin.
Jim thinks the difference is that all those other things are supposed to be cold.
When Jim got in Dinkins' face and yelled at him during PT, he'd felt the kid's warm breath puff against his cheek.
When he'd playfully smacked Dinkins after cleaning the kid out during a poker game, he'd felt warm skin under his palm.
When he'd shook Dinkins' hand after the kid had been promoted, he'd felt warmth in his fingers.
When Jim buried Daniel Dinkins, he felt cold skin slide away from his touch and fall into the ground.
To rot in the heart of darkness.