Goats from Lambs

Chapter 1

Detective Rashida Heyes slowly crossed under the police tape blocking off an entire section of Eden Avenue near Balk Street. As she stood back up, her already throbbing headache morphed into a steady pounding, as though her heart had suddenly relocated to behind her eyes.

Rashida gently squeezed at the back of her neck as she unzipped her brown leather jacket, prominently displaying her Detective's badge to anyone who might have had the instinct to inquire about her presence. The last thing she needed right now was some headstrong beat cop, over-playing the bouncer role.

Admittedly, Rashida did love pulling rank on any "cock-nosed" male cop with chauvinistic tendencies, but the urgency of the call told her there wasn't time for ego smashing. Besides, the intensity with which her head was pounding made Rashida wonder if she would even be able to put a sentence together at this point.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the white noise of the active investigation, "You're gonna love this one, Rash. Weird-as-fuck."

Rashida's partner, Travis Virgil, handed her a coffee with two milks already stirred in. The coffee had cooled off just enough that she could take big, bitter gulps from it, just the way she liked. Before she could even ask, Travis pulled a bottle of ibuprofen from his pocket, shaking it like a package of Tic-Tacs. Travis was good like that. He always had been.

Travis and Rashida had been partners for five years now, and despite what people assumed based on their natural chemistry they kept their relationship professional... mostly.

There had been one night early on in their partnership that they nearly succumbed to drunken temptation. Had they followed through, they very well could have ruined everything that night, however before they could cross that line, Rashida had received the phone call from the Hospital.

"He was found with a total of eight gunshot wounds. We did everything we could." said the cold voice on the other end of the line, in a poor attempt to emulate sensitivity.

Rashida couldn't say anything; she just hung up on 'Dr. Whatever' and sat quietly as she desperately clung to the memory of her younger brother, Jacob's face.

Rashida had been putting off seeing Jacob for months now, not necessarily by choice, it was just that work had kept getting in the way. As she stared a hole into the floor that night, she tried to come to terms with the fact that she would never see Jacob again, all the while, Travis sat silently beside her, staring at the same patch of carpet until sunrise.

Neither of them ever spoke of that night. Frankly, Rashida preferred it that way and Travis seemed to understand. It's not like Travis wasn't much to look at. Sure, she hated his greasy-spiked hair, patchy excuse for a beard, and second-hand suits, but what he lacked in style he made up for with instinct and focus.

Travis was a good cop, and a good man. Yes, his default nature could have been described as 'Alpha behavior', but when Rashida looked into his eyes, she saw so much more than what was on the surface. Deep within, there was a twinkle of vulnerability and pain that he never talked about, nor would Rashida ever mention.

Since their night together, there had been occasional moments that Rashida would catch herself wondering what could have been, but each and every time she would hear that fucking phone ring, shattering the hypotheticals with a bitter dose of reality. In the end, it was probably for the best. The less said the better.

Rashida and Travis walked through a parted mass of officers standing outside what looked like an eight-foot shower stall that had been put up in the middle of the sidewalk. The whole 'structure', if you could call it that, noticeably leaned to the right, visibly shifting with each gust of wind.