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a rough day – a double-homicide kind of day, to be exact. It was good to be home. Still, Sam didn’t relish the thought of heating up the burritos that awaited him in the fridge, leftovers from the meal he’d cooked himself a couple days ago.
    Blood spatter had been thrown over his mind’s eye, and he knew the memory would never leave him completely. Gristly scenes like the one he’d responded to today stayed with him permanently, accumulating and forming a staining layer over a part of his brain he tried not to use. It was an occupational hazard. It was also enough to make the thought of mushy homemade burrito filling utterly repellant.
    Forgoing food altogether, he filled a glass at the kitchen tap and downed the water. It was early autumn, but the days were still hot for anyone who had to spend them in a uniform and bulletproof vest. He finished the drink, then had half of another before picking up his phone.
    He’d promised to call Abby, and the thought of talking to her had been a bright spot in his otherwise dark day.
    She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
    Her voice shot through his consciousness like an arrow, piercing the veil of disgust that had settled over his mind. He shoved thoughts of work away – he could forget about what he’d seen, at least for the duration of their conversation. “Hey, Abby.”
    There was the briefest of awkward pauses. “How was your day?”
    He had no desire to burden her with a candid answer. “Could’ve been worse. How’s your nephew – he make out okay at the clinic?”
    “It was an ear infection. He’s had several so far, and he’s only a year old, poor kid. He’s already feeling better though, now that it’s being treated.”
    “Glad to hear it.”
    “Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry I had to leave in the middle of our date, I—”
    “There was nothing else you could’ve done. Your family is more important than apple cobbler, although I’ve gotta tell you, you really missed out.”
    “I figured. The rest of the food there was so good, I bet dessert was amazing.”
    “Don’t worry; we can order something sweet next time. How’s Sunday for you? I’m off that day.”
    “Sunday would be great. I’ll be available that evening.”
    When she claimed not to care where they ate next time, he promised to surprise her. She even agreed to let him pick her up, though he’d expected her to turn him down again. So when she lowered her voice and spoke his name in a much different tone than the one she’d used to answer the phone, the sudden change tripped some sort of internal sensor of his.
    “Sam, I have to tell you something when I see you on Sunday. I’m mentioning it now because I meant to tell you last time, but I didn’t.”
    “You don’t have to wait until Sunday if it’s something you think I should know now. I have time to talk.” He wasn’t going to do anything besides go for a run, then maybe zone out in front of the TV for a while before crashing, anyway. Abby was a better distraction than primetime programming, although the tone of her voice told him something was wrong.
    “I’d rather tell you in person. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t give myself the chance to not bring it up again.”
    “All right. Whatever you’d prefer.”
    She made a sound that might’ve been a sigh. “Thanks. I’ll see you Sunday.”
    “See you then.”
    As he pulled running clothes from a dresser drawer, he tried not to think of the strange look she’d given him as she’d left last time – the one he knew he hadn’t been intended to see. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. The look and what she’d said over the phone haunted him, tempting him to dwell on the endless possibilities her words suggested.
    Maybe she was already in a relationship, or maybe he was bad at reading her – maybe she just didn’t want to see him again. The thought soured his stomach in a way even work hadn’t.
    Stepping outside and breathing in a lungful of chilly