Author's website: http://www.learnlink.emory.edu/~sdelcul/index2.html

Disclaimer: Standard Disclaimer. The blame for this one has to go to Larissa. She just had to talk about the plot bunnies and one wedged itself into my brain. I tried to make him go away by naming him Al, but it didn't work. Please send comments, questions, compliments, and otters to sdelcul@yahoo.com.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes:

Lieutenant Welsh looked over his desk schedule to check the list of who was up next. Ray Vecchio.

He hated people. For the past two years he'd been neck deep in the worst scum in Chicago, alone, ever since McKinney had transferred out of the unit to some cushy security job in Detroit. The past six and a half months had been the worst. He'd identified the man who was responsible for a series of murderous assaults on school girls. The last and youngest victim had been only seven when Cameron Lash raped her.

They'd almost caught him in the act, arriving at the scene just after four thirty, when Lash had left to place an "anonymous" call to the police. He'd most likely left Chicago that night; so far no other victims had been reported. The worst of it had been when the little girl turned out to be a friend and schoolmate of Maria's oldest girl, Olivia.

He'd been so close to putting away someone who he still mentally referred to as --a really bad man. So close, and yet so far. Cameron Lash wasn't in prison, he wasn't on trial, he was free, possibly free to hurt another little girl somewhere else. And that knowledge had sent him over the edge.

Ray knew his boss thought he was a burnout; hell, everybody else agreed. If anyone had had the nerve to ask, Ray probably would have admitted that he agreed too, but very few people really talked to him anymore. Among those who did, well, those who did usually had to, and they left as soon as possible. The only exceptions were his coworkers. He had no partner, no real friends to speak of and almost no job. The only reason he wasn't on some kind of leave was that they were short-staffed as it was. He had forty-something cases on his desk, more than most partnered detectives; there simply was no money to pay someone else while he went off to the beach or something.

Welsh stuck his head outside of his office. "Vecchio."

"Coming." He winced as he stood up, hearing several vertebrae pop into place. He'd been sitting at his desk for way too long. As he crossed the room, he could overhear Louis making some not quite witty comment about his being called to the principal's office.

"New case for you, Vecchio. Some Mountie's gotten himself killed. Here's what we've got."

Ray glanced over the report briefly. Great. A dead Mountie.

End The Docket by silvina: sdelcul@yahoo.com

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