Why wouldn't that damn alarm clock stop ringing! He'd slammed his hand against it four times now and it was still trying to wake him. Wait a minute, wasn't it still dark? The alarm shouldn't be going off while it was still dark. Damn! It was the phone. His arm snaked out from underneath the thick blue bed covers to pick up the phone. He silently hoped it wasn't what he thought it was.

'Standish.' He listened to his own slurred voice as he answered the phone.

'Hey Boss, we've got a body for you.'

'Who is this?' How could he recognize someone's voice in the middle of the night?

'Uh Boss, it's me, Wilmington, I'm on desk duty tonight. Something to do with trying to get a date with the Mayor's daughter which he didn't like and for some reason he called my boss and here I am.'

'And you're calling me because you think I can get you out of it,' said Standish.

'No, you put me here and we have a body.'

'She has a body?'

'Boss you really have to stop taking a turn with the weekend call rotations,' said Wilmington.

Standish sat up and pulled the covers away from his face. He switched the phone to his left hand and used his right to rub his eyes clear.

'I'm on call?'

'You okay Boss? You don't sound too good.'

'It's in the middle of the night,' growled Standish, 'of course I don't sound, as you put it, too good.'

'It's not the middle of the night boss. It's nearly five in the morning.'

'It's still dark . . .'

'Boss we haven't got time for your early morning confusion . . . you're on call and we've got a body!' snapped Wilmington.

'Okay, okay . . okay. Who else?'

'Dunne.'

'Tell him to pick me up in fifteen.' Standish hung up the phone and climbed out of bed. After ridding himself of his pajamas he headed towards the bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Haunted green eyes stared back at him. He hated looking at them because they told the truth of his state of mind. He quickly looked away before his eyes could reveal more. After cleaning his teeth he dressed: pair of blue jeans, white shirt and a thick brown jumper. He retrieved his revolver, keys and notebook from the table near the front door then left without looking back.

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Forty five minutes later Detectives Standish and Dunne arrived at the Denver Memorial park and parked next a patrol. There were other vehicles, all belonging to the people who were required at the scene. Standish and Dunne had been the last to arrive. Standish opened the passenger side of the car and waited until the tremors left his body. He had a fear of dying in a car accident since he was a child and Dunne's driving didn't help his fear. A child psychologist had called it a phobia but it was too strong a word for him. The word fear was more simple, less girly. Once he was sure his body was under control he got out and looked over the roof of the car at Dunne.

'Give me the keys.'

'What?' asked Dunne.

'I said . . . give me the keys.'

'Why?'

'Why,' repeated Standish, 'because you can't drive.'

'I have a driver's license that says I can.'

'Just give me the damn keys and when you can prove that you can drive you can have them back.'

'I can prove it now by showing you my dri_'

'We don't have time for that.' Standish walked around the car, took the keys from Dunne and headed for the crime scene.

They walked passed the coroner's van to the crime scene to find it cordoned off with yellow tape. After crossing under the tape Standish and Dunne gave their names and badge numbers to the uniformed officer who held the crime scene attendance list. Before moving towards the body Standish stood back and took in the entire scene. He wanted the picture in his head before it became separated by evidence, photos and witness statements. He only had a few seconds before a man came towards him.

'Hey Bob.' Standish addressed the coroner's technician.

'Standish.' Bob Fenton nodded to Standish then smiled at Dunne. 'How ya doing JD? Enjoy your weekend with Casey?'

'What weekend, it's Saturday morning and I'm here.'

Fenton laughed at the young man's expression. 'You can get laid anytime JD'

'What would you know?'

'What have you got Bob?' Standish asked while he pulled on the rubber gloves Fenton gave him.

Fenton looked down at his notes, shook his head then looked back up. 'Female Caucasian, twenty-seven years of age. Name Shannon Bell. From the look of her she was raped, beaten then strangled. Time of death would be somewhere around eight last night.'

'You found her id then,' said Dunne while he wrote notes on his small notebook.

'Found her bag and everything in it including her cell phone.'

'Eight last night and it was only just called in.' Standish had moved to Four Corners, Denver seven months ago but he knew that the park usually had a few people hanging around on a Friday night.

Fenton nodded towards the body. 'Go do what you need to do so the crime scene guys can finish and I can take the body to the morgue.'

'Let me know when the autopsy is. I know JD here loves to watch, especially when it's a woman.'

'Fuck you boss!'

'Save it for Casey.' Standish always did what he could to make the young detective laugh in a situation like this. Crime scenes could sicken the best of men and so far JD had been lucky. Dunne had been a Homicide Detective 1st Class for less than fifteen months and so far had only investigated crimes that involved victims that were over twenty-five. He had yet to come across a murder that involved a child. When that day came the young man would be changed forever.

Fenton laughed then went back to the coroner's van to wait.

Standish and Dunned walked carefully towards the uniform officer standing close to the victim. Standish took in the scene with experienced eyes. The body laid face down, the shoulder length red hair was a mess: full of dirt, leaves and twigs. A white shirt covered her back but the black jeans and underwear were tangled around her ankles. Her feet were covered by a pair of white sneakers. A brown purse lay a few yards away to her right. Nothing in the scene stood out, nothing that would immediately give them an idea of where to start in finding the victim's killer.

'TANNER!' yelled Standish.

A uniformed officer jogged over to the two Detectives and smiled at Dunne who nodded in return.

'You yelled boss.'

'Yes I yelled and don't call me boss. I'm not your boss, Larabee is, call him boss.'

'But he doesn't like being called boss, besides, he said that if I call him boss again he'll hit me.'

'And I wouldn't.'

'No you wouldn't.'

'Tell me what I need to know.'

Standish had gotten to know the men of the small police force of Four Corners. There were only twelve of them and every one of them knew how to do their job. They knew what was expected and were ready when information was needed.

'Ed Price,' Tanner pointed to the man sitting in the patrol car, 'said he found the body about nine last night. He's not sure though because he doesn't own a watch but had an idea because he'd left the library at eight-fifteen and thinks that only about an hour had passed.'

'Where did he make the phone call?'

'He used the phone in the center of the park.'

Standish looked over at the man. 'Did he say why he took so long to call it in?'

'He said he was scared.'

'Time to clean himself up,' said Dunne.

'Tanner_'

'Yeah boss.'

'Tell the crime scene guys that I want her bag and cell phone dusted first and then I want a list of calls made to and from the victim's cell phone during the last forty-eight hours.'

'Anything else?'

'Do we have a next-of-kin_' Tanner gave him a piece of paper.

'There was an address book in her bag and before you say it, the crime scene guys did their job with it first.'

'Have Wilmington run her name through the computer and see if she has any priors. Meanwhile Dunne and I will have a quick talk with Price then do the next-of-kin.'

Standish and Dunne walked to the Patrol car. Dunne opened the door and introduced himself and his partner. He then gestured to Price to get out of the car and stand against it. After giving him the once-over Standish began his questions. He liked to do most of the questioning and then allow Dunne to ask questions at the end of the interview.

'I understand that you found the body at about nine.' Standish was watching Price for some indication of guilt but all he could see was fear.

'Yes I did,' said Price.

'What did you do when you found it?'

'Don't you mean her?'

'Excuse me?' Standish frowned at the man.

'You said it, don't you mean her. She was a person after all.'

'Mr. Price, I've seen a lot worse than this, a lot worse, that's why I left the city and came down here to a small town where I thought this sort of thing didn't happen but that was my mistake and none of your business. If I were to call each victim by their name then it's going to become too personal and I'll end up blowing my head off because I couldn't separate myself from them. It's the only way I can do it. Now can we please continue with the interview!'

'Why didn't you call the police when you first found the victim?' Dunne caught the change in his boss's stance.

Standish knew he had allowed his emotions to take control. It was the wrong thing to do and Dunne had just given him the opportunity to take control again. Didn't mean he had to like the interruption.

'How am I supposed to learn how to question a suspect or witness if you won't let me ask any of the questions.'

The witness glanced quickly at the younger man then back at Detective Standish who seemed unhappy with the interruption. 'It's okay, I don't mind if Detective Dunne asked me questions.

'Like it's up to you!' Standish snapped. He saw the fear deepen. 'Sorry, you can answer the question and if Detective Dunne here wants to ask another question he can do it later. Perhaps he can ask you if you would like a cup of coffee or something like that. He likes asking that question don't you JD.'

'It's only polite to ask if you're getting some for yourself.'

'And you're saying I don't.'

'No you don't.'

'I was scared,' said Price.

Standish only just managed to control his anger. What the hell were they doing arguing in front of a witness. It was this town. The people in it weren't normal and it always seemed to bring out the worst of him.

'Why were you scared?' asked Dunne.

'Hell help me.' Standish looked up towards the sky when Dunne asked another question. Maybe he should just let Dunne take full control.

'Hell is that way.' Dunne pointed towards the ground.

'I know that.'

'Then why are you looking up there?'

'Detective Dunne, a minute please,' Standish took a few steps to the side and squeezed the bridge of his nose, 'what the hell are you doing?'

'Don't you mean what the hell are we doing? It takes two to argue.'

'Okay, it's early, I'm in a bad mood and you're trying to get me out of it but we're interviewing a witness who could easily turn into a suspect and you're going out of your way to bait me.'

'It's working too, you're baited.'

'Yes I'm baited so can we get back to business.

'Okay,' shrugged Dunne.

'Finally.' Standish moved back to his position and saw movement in the bushes behind the Patrol car. He also saw who was causing the movement. The person wasn't a threat so he ignored it. It could wait a few more minutes.

'Can you answer the question please Mr. Price.'

'I'm homeless, I have no money. I thought I would be your first suspect, that you would arrest me or something.'

'You are our first suspect. The person who finds the body is always a suspect until they are ruled out of the investigation,' said Standish.

'What,' the man's head lifted so quickly Standish thought it was going to snap off like a twig. 'You can't do that, I didn't do anything.'

'What you did do was take your sweet time reporting a murder to the authorities.'

'I told you_'

'Does he belong to you?' Standish nodded to the boy who was watching them.

'Who?'

'The boy who thinks we can't see him.'

Dunne looked where Standish was looking. 'What boy?'

For a fleeting second Standish thought about shooting Dunne then thought it might be easier if he just shot himself.

'The boy that thinks I can't see him.'

Standish stepped around the Patrol car. 'Get out here where my blind police partner can see you.'

'I'm not afraid of you!' A young voice called out.

'I don't give a shit if you're afraid of me or not. Now get out here before I send Dunne in there after you.'

'If he comes anywhere near me I'll kick him in the balls so hard he'll wish his mother never gave birth to him.'

Standish glanced over his shoulder at Price who shrugged.

'He's got his mother's mouth,' said Price.

'You mean had his mother's mouth.' Standish growled. 'What's your son's name?'

'Garrett.'

'Garrett,' Standish called out while flicking his notebook closed and placing it in his pocket, 'if I have to come in there after you I'm going to kick your balls so hard they'll never drop.'

He knew it was an empty threat and the kid would know it too but the boy's father was scared.

'Garrett get out here now!' yelled Price.

When Garrett came out and stood next to his father Standish could see that the boy was clean where his father wasn't, he looked healthy when his father didn't, he was clothed where his father wasn't. Price gave his son everything. This was a man who wasn't capable of raping and murdering a young woman, he was sure of it.

'You look after the kid but not yourself,' Standish said.

'The kid's name is Garrett, moron.'

'Mr. Price, would you please tell your boy to be more polite to his elders.'

'Garrett, please, this isn't the time.'

'Fine Dad, but when the time is right I'm going to give him Hell.'

Price looked down at his son.

Dunne smiled at the boy.

Standish glared at Dunne.

'Tanner!' Standish turned on his heel and began to walk back to his car. 'Take these two down to the station while Dunne and I do the next-of-kin.'

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He hated doing next-of-kin, but what was worse, cowardly even, was giving the task to someone else to do. After knocking on the door he took a deep breath and held it then let it out a few seconds later. He knocked louder the second time, even louder the third and by the fourth he could hear someone moving around inside the house.

When the door opened abuse was hurled at him about the time of day and how some people needed to sleep because they had to get up and go to work later in the day. The abuse stopped when he showed the woman his police ID.

'Mrs. Bell?'

'Yes, is this about my daughter? Is she alright?'

'No Mrs. Bell, she isn't.' It was Standish could think of to say.

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'Where are they?' Standish asked Wilmington as soon as he walked into the Police Station.

'Where's who?' Wilmington lifted his eyes from the magazine he was reading at the Sergeant's desk and saw Dunne shake his head at him.

'We just did the next-of-kin,' said Dunne.

They all knew what Standish was like after notifying the next-of-kin of a death. His mood was a mixture of sadness and anger and he was never in the mood for smart-ass remarks. It was also too early in the morning for the senior Detective.

'Oh you mean Price. He's in interview room one. '

Without another word the two men headed towards Four Corner's one and only interview room. There were only three chairs in the room so when Dunne headed straight for the empty chair Standish leaned against the door after closing it. He saw the sweat that beaded Price's forehead and the tear streaked face of his son.

'First of all, we are not going to separate you,' said Standish, 'you obviously take care of your son and as long as you can assure me that there is somewhere that you stay during the night you're both fine as far as I'm concerned.'

'What?'

'I'm not going to repeat myself Mr. Price.'

'I'm sorry. It's just that . . . we expected it when you told Officer Tanner to bring us down here.'

'Did you hear me ask him to call Child Services?'

'No.'

'Then you have nothing to worry about.'

'Breakfast?' Dunne asked.

Standish noticed that Dunne was already clicking on one of the speed dials of his cell phone before he got an answer from anyone.

'I'll go and get some drinks,' Standish muttered and left the room.

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They were now settled around the table, Standish having gotten an extra chair when he had gotten sodas for the boys and coffee for the men. Standish watched as Dunne and Garrett ate the pancakes that had been delivered ten minutes earlier.

He remembered how Garrett's face had been wet with shed tears when he first arrived back. It was obvious that the boy's first thought had been that they were going to take him to a foster home. Standish knew this because it had been his first thought when his mother had been arrested when he was a child. He had silently hoped that they would send him away and they had. It wasn't a pleasant experience and when he was re-united with his mother six months later he had made her promise never to let them take him away again. She had made the promise and she had broken it on more than one occasion. When he had gotten older he had realised that it hadn't been his mother's fault. She was just doing what she could to feed and cloth them both.

'Where do you go to school Garrett?'

'The library,' Garrett said between mouthfuls of pancake and syrup.

'Really,' Standish said.

'Yeah, I read all sorts of books. History, science, biology, and all the stuff that teaches me about English and Math.'

'Do you have somewhere to stay at night?' Standish wasn't surprised when the boy stopped eating and quickly glanced at his father. 'When we're done here go to this address,' Standish pulled a card from his pocket and wrote on the back of it. He then handed it to Price. 'Mrs. Wells who runs the place will take you in for a while and if you ask her nicely she'll even help you.'

'This is good food,' Dunne spoke through a mouth full of food.

'At least Garrett here has enough manners to speak when his mouth isn't full.' Standish slapped Dunne on the back of the head and Dunne started to choke on his food. Standish ignored him.

'Aren't you going to . . .' Price started to ask.

'No.'

'But he's_'

'At this moment I don't really care.' Standish was looking at Garrett and not Price. 'Will you please hurry up so we get this done, I have other things to do.'

'Let the kid eat.' Dunne had finally managed to swallow his food.

'Who am I Dunne?'

'You're an irritating son-of-a-bitch who doesn't_'

'I know that but I'm talking about what I do for a living.' Standish continued to watch Garret Price.

'You're a police officer,' Dunne said.

'What kind of police officer.'

'You're a Detective.'

'And what kind of Detective am I?'

By this time Garrett had noticed that Standish was staring at him.

'A Homicide Detective.'

'A Homicide Detective that . . . ?

'That solves Homicides.'

'Very good,' Standish didn't notice when Dunned grinned like an idiot. 'And what is the most important thing about a Homicide.'

'The first forty-eight hours.'

'That's right, so you won't really mind if I hurry this along then do you.'

'But Mr. Price isn't eating,'

'Mr. Price isn't the one who found the body,' Standish said.

'What makes you think that?' Price asked.

'Please, I'm not stupid.'

Both Dunne and Garrett choked on a comeback.

Standish allowed his head to fall to the table. 'My life is hell.'

'Only a stupid person would do that,' Garrett said.

'Dunne, enough with the food. I want you to write this down.'

'Sure thing Boss.'

Garrett saw the irritated expression on Detective Standish's face and decided the time was right.

'Okay Boss,' Garrett said, 'I'm ready when you are. Ask away Boss and I'll tell you everything. I'm ready to squeal like a pig.'

'Why are you calling me "Boss"?'

Garrett leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. 'Because it's time and I'm ready to piss you off.'

'You're already pissing me off.'

'Junior.'

Standish turned to look at Price.

'Excuse me?'

'He doesn't like being called Junior. His Grandmother called him that all the time. He hated it.'

'DAD!'

'Thank you for the information Mr. Price.' Standish turned back to Garrett. 'Okay Junior, we can do this the easy way and drop the nick names or do it the hard way and try to out do each other with the name calling. It's up to you.'

'Okay boss, we'll do it the hard way.'

Standish stared at the boy then at the boy's father for help. He didn't get any.

'Before we start I want to inform you that neither of you are under arrest but I would like you, Mr. Price, to sign a form to waive your rights so nothing that is said here can be thrown back in our faces in court. Also you can have a lawyer present if you wish.'

Dunne left the room then quickly returned with a form and passed it across the table, the edge of the paper collected some syrup on the way. Price signed it with one of Dunne's pens then handed it back.

'Where do I sign boss?' Garrett asked.

'You don't, you're a minor junior. What you need is a parent, guardian or lawyer present. You're not under arrest and you're father is here to see to your interests. Start at the beginning junior.'

Standish saw what would have been his own expression reflected on the boy's face when he called him junior. The kid did hate the nick name almost as much as he hated being called boss.

'Like Dad said, we were at the library and I was reading about the Pyramids of Egypt. They were interesting but not my type of thing because I want to be a computer game programmer but we don't have a computer. Sometimes they let me use the one at the library but they cost money and Dad can't afford to pay for it very often,' Garrett watched Standish's expression go from frustrated to impatient but the man didn't tell him to hurry, 'we left at?' he glanced at his father.

Garrett's father began to talk, 'It was about eight-fifteen. I remember glancing up at the clock on the way out because the shelter closes at nine-thirty and I wanted to get there before they closed their doors. They let us stay sometimes, not all the time though.'

'We were walking through the park and I was walking ahead of Dad. I like to look for money or wallets that people may have dropped, you know anything that may help us buy our next meal, that sort of thing.' He realised what he had just said. 'Did I get us in trouble?'

'No,' Standish sighed, 'just keep talking about what happened and what you saw.'

'Okay Boss.' Garrett smiled. 'Anyway I was off the path cause that's were people . . . well men and ladies . . . they . . . and I thought I saw something. I went closer and that's when I saw the lady_'

'What lady would that be Junior?' Standish asked.

'The one that was dead. I could tell because her eyes were open. You don't sleep with your eyes open do you and she . . . didn't . . . '

Standish saw the boy's blue eyes fill with tears. 'I know what you saw Garrett and I know it's hard for you but I do need you to say it for our records. You don't have to give us a detailed description, just enough so we know that nothing changed in the crime scene from when you found her to when we showed up.' Standish almost grimaced when he realised he referred to the victim as "her".

'Okay Boss.'

'We'll be finished in a few minutes then you can go to Mrs. Wells place,' Standish said, 'she has a computer and access to the internet. Tell her I said you can use both and that I'll take care of the cost.'

'Her jeans and . . . they were down around her ankles . . . '

Garrett's father interrupted, 'Can't I tell you this part. I caught up with him a few minutes later.'

'I'm sorry Mr. Garrett but I need Junior to tell me.'

'And her shirt was up around her shoulders.'

'Was she lying face up or down?'

'She was lying on her stomach,' Garrett answered.

'Did you touch anything?'

'No. I sort of froze until Dad found me and then we left.'

'Did you see anyone else in the area before you found the body or after?'

'No.'

'What about you Mr. Price, did you see anyone?'

'No. When I saw what Garrett was looking at I grabbed him and pulled him away.'

'Why didn't you call us straight away?' Standish asked him.

'I know I should have but my first concern was for my son. I didn't want to lose him. I know I did the wrong thing by not calling you . . . ' Price was babbling now, 'but I've already lost his mother and I don't want to lose him. If they take him away . . . I should have called you.'

'Yes you should have but it's too late now. If I was a bastard I would charge you with something but I'm not.' Standish was literally a Bastard, born out of wedlock. He'd never knew his father, didn't even know his name.

'Did you get all that down Dunne?'

'I did Boss,' Dunne said.

'Mr. Price, we won't keep you any longer because Junior here is really starting to piss me off and you're not making me feel any better. We'll have someone type up his statement and bring out to you to sign.'

'Detective Standish,' Standish was about to stand up and leave but waited to hear what Garrett was going to say to him. He hoped it was something nice.

'You know, all you had to do was ask me not to call you Boss and I would have stopped.'

Standish held his breath and anger. What the boy said was not nice. 'How long has your mother been dead?'

'Two years,' Garrett said.

'Mr. Price, seriously, you're doing a very good job raising your son under the conditions that you're living in. Garrett, you're lucky to have a father like him. Now get the hell out of here before I kick both of you in the balls!' Standish stayed where he was until they had left the room then stood up and left also. 'Dunne, see what's taking them so long with the finger prints and phone. I want that list of calls ASAP.'

'Sure thing Boss.'

'And stop calling me Boss!'

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Standish sat down at his desk, remembered he needed a new clip folder, got up, retrieved one then sat back down. He then noticed that the printer was out of paper. He got up, filled it then sat down again. Now his fingers were on the key board ready to start typing up the reports for the Blue Book.

He needed more coffee. When he got to the coffee table he found that no one had made any. Again he returned to his desk, fingers reaching for the keyboard. It would help if he turned on the computer. This done he was ready to begin.

'Standish!'

'Shit.' What was Larabee doing in his office at this time in the morning? He stood up and walked into the Captain's office. 'Hey Boss, what are you doing in so early?'

'I'm always in the office at this time of the morning,' Larabee growled, 'you would know that if you came in before nine and don't call me Boss, you know I hate it.'

Standish didn't believe the rumors that Larabee would hit anyone who called him Boss. Although the man was reputed to have a bad temper Standish had never seen it in the time he had been in Four Corners.

'Is it my fault that the criminals in this lousy town are mostly nine-to-five guys,' Standish muttered.

'That's my lousy town you're talking about!' Larabee leaned back in his chair, 'anyway, enough of the small talk. What have we got?'

'Shannon Bell, twenty-seven year old single Caucasian female. Raped and strangled. Nothing was stolen. The body was found by a twelve year boy Garret Price and his father Ed Price. We talked to the victim's mother who said that her daughter didn't have a steady boyfriend or a lot of friends for that matter but that she did hang out at the same bar every Friday night.

'A place called Duncan's Bar on Montly Street. We're going to talk to the bar owner and any regular drinkers to see if she was there last night as soon as Dunne comes back. We're also going to check all calls in-going and out-going from her cell phone during the last forty-eight hours.'

'I understand that Mr. Price didn't call it in straight away,' Larabee said. 'That he waited a few hours.'

'You've been talking to Wilmington?'

'No, Wilmington has been talking to me,' Larabee said, 'he's got this gossip thing going where he keeps me up to date on all our cases, well case as it happens to be at the moment.'

'I've already talked to Mr. Price about it. The situation has been dealt with.'

'I also understand that Mr. Price and his son are homeless.'

Standish stared at Larabee across the table. He knew enough about Larabee to trust him - trust him with almost anything.

'Yes.' There it was. He had hoped that Larabee would have been more understanding. Larabee's own wife and son had been murdered five years earlier, the case was unsolved, the trail had gone cold. Standish had looked into the case two months after his transfer but there had been nothing to go on. The explosion that caused their deaths left nothing, no evidence. The explosive device was homemade. The information required to make it was easily available on the Internet, the ingredients bought from the store shelf from any store in the country.

Larabee should know what it was like to be separated from the ones you love.

'Boss!'

Both men answered, 'Don't call me Boss!'

Standish tuned around. Larabee looked up.

Dunne walked into the office and stood next to Standish. 'Got a list of numbers from the victim's cell phone.'

'That was quick,' Larabee said.

'There were only three calls, that's why it didn't take them long. They also got some finger prints, they're going to run them through the computer.' Dunne checked his notebook. 'The Victim received a call from her mother on Thursday at eleven-forty-five am, made one call to a Doctor Palmer yesterday at two-thirty-two pm and one at six-twelve pm to Duncan's Bar which is the bar the victim frequented every Friday night.'

'Frequented,' Larabee smiled, 'that's a big word for you JD.'

'Thanks Bo . . . Captain.'

'I'll get Jackson to start the Blue Book and we'll head out to Duncan's Bar now.' Standish turned around to leave hoping that Larabee had forgotten about Price.

He Hadn't.

'What are you going to do about Price and his son?'

Standish turned back to face Larabee, 'I sent them to the Widow Wells place. She'll take care of them for a while.'

'And after the "while" is up,' Larabee asked.

'I'm hoping that the "while" will be a long while.'

'Ezra, how long have you been working here now?'

'About six months,' Standish answered.

'Six months three weeks and two days,' Larabee corrected, 'I know this because you're an irritating son-of-a-bitch_'

'So I've been told,' Standish looked sideways at Dunne who was nodding in agreement with Larabee.

'And did I do anything during that time to cause you to distrust me?'

'You gave me JD here as a partner.'

'I thought I was a good partner,' Dunne protested.

'You are in some ways but in others . . . ' Standish shrugged.

'Do you trust me or not?'

'Of course I do.'

'Then you should know that I only have the boy's best interest at heart.'

'You're not going to call in Child Services are you?'

'Did you?'

'No.'

'Then why should I.'

Standish stood frozen on the spot. He noticed Dunned leaving and felt the tug on his sleeve. The younger man was telling him it was time to leave. He left.

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Duncan's Bar was just like any other. A large neon sign above the door read "Ducan's Bar: the "n" was broken. The large windows were tinted so you couldn't see in - the dust that covered them didn't help either. A thick heavy wooden door was the entrance and it screamed when you pushed it open. Darkness filled the inside making it difficult to see where you were walking.

Standish swore when he hit his knee against what he thought was a table.

'Hello! Is there anyone here?' he wasn't going to go any further until he could see where he was going. 'Hello.'

'I'll be with you in a minute,' a voice answered from somewhere in the darkness.

'How about you be with us right now!' Standish yelled back.

'You're an impatient bastard aren't you.'

Standish blinked when the lights were turned on. The light didn't really help. It was still darker than it should be but he could at least see the things in front of him. One of those things was a man.

'Are you the owner?' When the man nodded Standish introduced himself and Dunne. 'Shannon Bell, was she in here last night?'

'Just like every other Friday night.' The man walked behind the bar turned on more lights and started filling small red bowls with peanuts.

'What time did she arrive?'

'Always gets here about six-thirty but last night she was late.'

'Her cell phone tells us she called here just after six last night_'

'Yeah she did,' said the man, 'asked for some guy, can't remember his name but I do remember that the person she asked for wasn't here.'

'Did she leave a message?' Standish stayed where he was while Dunne moved forward and sat on one of the bar stools.

The owner shook his head.

'Did she spend any time with one person?'

'Never did and before you ask she didn't leave with anybody. She stayed until just before eight and left on her own.'

Standish nodded and went into defense mode. 'You know, it seems strange to me but if I were you I would be asking about Shannon Bell. She came here every Friday night and yet you haven't asked us why we're here asking questions about her. You haven't shown any concern for her well being.'

'I've only owned the place for a couple of months.'

Dunne stood up. He could tell by the tone of his boss' voice that something was about to go down. This was extremely quick. Usually they first got evidence that would lead them to a suspect. They would then question that suspect, match any DNA evidence to them, question them again and get a confession. Sometimes this would take days or weeks. Other times it would take months or years. It was rare for them to solve a case so quickly. Dunne could have been wrong though. It was still early for his Boss and his mood was still bad.

'A couple of months huh? That makes you new to town.'

'Yeah it does.'

Dunne took a few steps back. 'So you're name's not Duncan.'

'No,' said the man as his eyes took in Dunne.

Standish noticed that the man had stopped filling the bowls and his hands were now hidden by the bar. He hoped that Dunne noticed also.

No, it couldn't be going down this way.

'What is your name?' Standish asked.

'Josiah Sanchez.'

'You want to put your hands on the bar where we can see them.' Both Standish and Dunne had their hands resting on their holsters. Standish's was clipped to his belt behind his back. Dunne's was in a shoulder holster.

Everything happened at once. The lights went off and a few seconds later there was gunfire. Standish dove to the right because he knew Dunne would go to the left but as he fell he heard a grunt of pain. It was Dunne's voice. His partner was down.

'JD?'

'He's out of the game Detective . . . Standish was it? I didn't really take any notice. See, the only cop I like is a dead cop and I'm going to be able to kill two cops today.'

Standish crawled to where he knew the bar was and felt it as his shoulder hit it. He leaned back against it and looked up. He couldn't see much in the darkness but knew that Sanchez was still here - he could sense his presence. He wasn't going to be able to just stand up. His body would be an open invitation for a bullet. Standish felt his way along the bar until he came to the end. He was about to go around it when he heard Sanchez leap over the bar. Standish spun around but it was too late.

He felt something slam against his right arm. He was unable to hold onto his gun and it left his hand and fell to the floor. Standish followed it when he fell to his knees. Another blow, this time to his back found him flat on the dirt covered wooden floor. His body was now unguarded. A knee was pressed down into his back causing his breath to be forced from his lungs.

'She wasn't the first one I killed,' Sanchez whispered in his ear, 'she wasn't the prettiest either but she did put up a good fight.'

Standish tried to use his arms to push himself up but his right arm gave out on him. The knee pressed deeper into his back as a result.

A few seconds later the weight was lifted and as he tried to get up he was hit again and again. Blood flowed from his right cheek where a splinter of wood had torn through his flesh. The third blood had opened the skin on the side of his head.

He had to do something before he was no longer able to and the only thing he could think of was to use his feet. He kicked out first with his right leg then his left. The left leg hit something soft so he kicked again. This time he heard a cry of pain.

Standish quickly forced himself to his feet but still had trouble seeing what was in front of him. His best hope was to find his gun - he had no chance of doing that. Dunne. If he could find Dunne then he should be able to find his gun. He moved quickly to the left and as he did so he felt the breeze of a bullet as it passed by his face. Standish hit the ground again and slid to a stop against Dunne. He quickly found Dunne's hands but there was no gun. He found the gun in Dunne's shoulder holster. The kid hadn't even had a chance to get his gun out. Another bullet hit the floor next to him sending splinters of wood around him. Sanchez was playing with him. If the guy had any brains he would be on the run now and not hanging around knowing that back-up would arrive - someone would have called the Police after hearing the gunshots.

Standish needed to see what he was doing. He looked at the large windows at the front of Duncan's Bar and saw no one on the street. He aimed and fired Dunne's gun, the bullet shattering the glass when it hit the right upper most corner of the window.

Sunlight streamed into the bar blinding both men for a moment. Standish's eyes adjusted quickly and he saw Sanchez bearing down on him.

'If you try to hit me one more time I'm going to shoot you.'

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Standish was sitting on the examination bed allowing a Doctor to bandage his cheek. He grimaced in pain when the man's fingers pressed against the wound itself.

'Sorry about that,' the Doctor smiled.

'If you're sorry you shouldn't be smiling about it,' Standish said.

'Hey Doctor Jackson.'

Standish looked up at the sound of Captain Larabee's voice. Great. This was all he needed.

'Is that going to scar?' Larabee had reached the bed that Standish was sitting on and leaned forward and tried to touch bandage on Standish's cheek.

'Don't touch it!' Standish swatted his Captain's hand away.

'Shouldn't scar,' Doctor Jackson answered, 'the wound isn't that deep. It just bled a lot. Same as the one on his head. Detective Standish was lucky the guy wasn't hitting him hard.'

'What?' Standish stared at Jackson, 'you've got to be kidding me. How could a guy that big not hit me hard.'

'If he had hit you hard Detective you would not be here now . . . '

'Oh,' Standish whispered.

Doctor Jackson turned and walked slowly out of the room. 'No, you would be in ICU right now . . . with a fractured skull . . . or perhaps your brain would be vegetable soup,' he was a man who enjoyed his job, 'at least then you wouldn't have to worry about the scar you're going to have on your cheek. Ooh, nasty.'

'What?'

'You okay?' Larabee asked Standish.

'Yeah I'm fine.'

'And what about you JD,' Larabee nodded to Dunne, 'and how does one manage to knock themselves unconscious while diving for cover?'

'Human stupidity,' Dunne was holding a small ice bag against the left side of his head, 'someone should not have put a table there in the first place.'

'But how did you do it?'

Standish answered for Dunne. 'Again human stupidity. His human stupidity.'

'Are you calling me stupid?'

'If the shoe fits JD.' Standish stood up and went and sat on the bed that Dunne was sitting on. 'You did good JD. You did good. It wasn't your fault that you didn't see the table.'

'Yeah I suppose,' Dunne nodded, 'but I don't know how I got the bruise on my right side when I went for the left.'

Standish coughed into his hand, 'Um, that was me.'

'Did you say that_'

'We got Sanchez down town,' Larabee spoke before an argument could start up between the two men.

Standish took the opening and dove for cover - this time verbally. He didn't want to argue with Dunne right now. 'Did he say why he opened fire on us, attacked me, then gave up so innocently?'

They were interrupted when Jackson stepped back into the room. 'I forgot to tell you that you can go, both of you. I don't think either of you have a concussion so you should be fine.' He smiled then laughed.

'Piss off.' Standish told him.

Jackson laughed again and left.

'Death by Cop,' Larabee shrugged, 'that was his explanation. We didn't get into it much. Thought I would leave that to you guys, it's your case. He has his lawyer with him but he's waived his rights and is ready to talk so I would get going if I were you before he changes his mind.'

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Josiah Sanchez greeted Detective Standish and Dunne with a simple, 'Ouch.'

'Thank you for your concern.' Standish pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. Dunne sat in the fourth chair that Standish had brought in early that morning when they had talked to Garrett and Ed Price. 'Mr. Sanchez, do you understand why you are here?'

'Yes I do Detective.' Sanchez sat facing Standish. His right arm was hand cuffed to the table. His lawyer sat on his left but the lawyer's body was angled so he was also facing Standish. It also made it easier for the man to lean in and whisper into Sanchez's left ear.

'And why is that?'

Sanchez leaned forward. 'I killed someone,' he whispered.

'And who would that be?' Standish knew that the video camera and sound recorder were recording everything that was said in the interview room because he had turned them on himself.

'A bitch called Shannon Bell.'

'Why was she a bitch Mr. Sanchez?' He didn't like being nice to killers, rapists, molesters but they talked more willingly when you treated like a normal person.

'She came in every Friday night and I asked her out every Friday night and she always said no.'

'And that made her a bitch?' Dunne asked.

'Yes, I mean why wouldn't a woman want to go out with me,' Sanchez smiled, 'what? Do they think I'm going to kill them or something.'

'Can you tell us what happened last night, which was Friday 21st November 2005.'

'Like I told you, she came in late had a few drinks then I asked her out. As usual she said no but she wasn't very nice about it this time. I didn't like that. I got angry.'

There was a sudden silence when Sanchez stopped talking. Seconds passed then minutes before he spoke again.

'She left earlier than she usually did. I'd had enough. Decided that I was going to get what I wanted and went after her. She didn't go to her car. She went through the park instead.'

'What time did Shannon leave?'

'Just before eight,' Sanchez said, 'she usually left about eleven. I stopped her in the park, asked her out again and when she told me to fuck off I snapped.'

'What did you do when you snapped?' Standish asked.

'Forced her to have sex with me then I strangled her. I was angry, out of control.'

'It wasn't consensual intercourse?'

'Hell no.'

'How did you strangle her?'

'With my hands,' he lifted them up so the Detectives could see them, 'big aren't they.'

'You told me earlier that Shannon Bell wasn't the first woman you had killed. Is that true?' Standish ignored Dunne's attempt at hiding his surprise.

'I don't remember saying that?'

Standish looked down at the table. It happened often. A suspect would confess a crime and then refuse to acknowledge it.

'You didn't tell me that Shannon Bell wasn't the first woman you killed?'

'No.'

'But you are telling me that you killed Shannon Bell.'

'Yes and I would do it again.'

'Mr. Sanchez, would you allow us to take DNA swabs and hair samples? If not we can get a warrant for them.'

'No, do you what you want.'

'Thank you.' Standish stood up and Dunne followed him out of the room. 'I would so like to beat the shit out of that guy.'

'What's this about him confessing that he'd killed others?' Dunne asked as they walked back to their desks.

'You were unconscious at the time so you didn't hear him and there is nothing I can do to prove that he said what he did.'

'At least he's off the street.'

'Yeah I guess.'

'What do you mean guess. He can't kill anymore.'

'I know but what about the others that he mentioned. What about them.' Standish sat down in his chair and threw his paper work on the table. They now needed to start the Blue Book and prepare the case so it was ready for the Prosecutors. 'They need justice and right now we can't give it to them . . . '

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The End - But to be continued in another story!