***
SchoolOffice.
"You''resayingyou''readetective?"
Shayfrowned,givingthemaninfrontofhimaonce-over,makingnoefforttohidehisskepticism.
Theceilingfanrattledinthefacultyofficewithasteadyda-da-da.Severalteacherspreparinglessonsglancedup,curiosityandconfusionwrittenacrosstheirfaces.
Junadjustedhisglassesandtuckedawayhisbadge.Thiswasn''tthefirsttimehisauthorityhadbeenquestionedduringanassignment.Theexcitementhehadfeltwhenhefirstjoinedthehomicideunitnowfeltlikeacrueljoke,replacedayearlaterbyfrustrationanddisillusionment.
Hehadgoneagainsthisfamily''swishes,givingupabusinessdegreetopursuecriminalpsychology—adecisionhehadoncewornwithpride.
Hehadimaginedhimselfpredictingcriminals''nextmove,breakingdowntheirdefenses,forcingconfessions,andseeingjusticedone—justlikethebrilliantdetectivesfromtheshowsandanimehehadidolizedasachild.
Reality,however,wasfarmorebrutalthanhisidealism.
Hisminddidn''tmovefastenough.Maybehetrulywasn''tcutoutforthis.Nomatterhowmanybookshe''dread,criminalsneverfollowedtextbookpatterns.
Heknewhelackedtheexperienceoftheseasonedinvestigatorsintheunit.Itmadesensetheylookeddownonhim—butdidtheyreallyhavetodismisshiseffortssocompletely?
Theyneverlethimjoinrealinvestigations.Howwashesupposedtogainexperienceifalltheyeverallowedhimtodowassortthroughmustyoldcasefiles?
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