by Zachariah Langley

Created on: November 16, 2011   Last Updated: November 19, 2011

Typical Friday night in the big city he thinks to himself responding to a call close to Brockton Avenue. The hard rain from earlier in the day had slicked the streets making them mirrors to the flashing emergency lights ahead. An officer stretches crime scene tape across the alleyway as evidence is being collected. Getting out of his car he sees an attractive young girl in the back of one of the ambulances who looks horribly shaken as a female EMT rubs her shoulders through a warm blanket.

"You picked a good night to come back to work," a man says walking toward him and they shake hands. "How the hell are ya Jack?"

"I've seen better days," he says grinning weakly, walking with him to the entrance of the alley. He sees the coroner's men placing the corpses of two men that will never see light again in body bags. "What do we have on this?"

"So far the usual, unfortunately," he says walking with him up to the men as they raise the stretcher up with one of the deceased men on it. The death stare of the man and his slightly open mouth lead the detective to a few conclusions, along with the hole in the side of his head.

"This man was shot at close range," he says examining the powder burns around the bullet entry. "Was he in a sort of fetal position when he was found?"

"Yeah," the other detective says looking at him surprised. "How'd you guess that?"

"Because this man was shot execution style," he says slightly disturbed. "What about the other guy."

"Gun shot wound to the chest and head," he says as they walk back to where the girl is, "but not close up. There weren't any shell casings either."

"You mean someone used a revolver," Jack asks almost in shock.

"Yeah," the other detective says snickering slightly. "Who the hell uses revolvers anymore anyway."

"Sir, we need you over here," an officer says to him and he walks off.

"Has anyone talked to her yet," he asks a female officer.

"We got a little bit out of her," she says to him on the side. "The girl had to be cleaned up. Seems two guys pulled her into the alley there and tried raping her when some man came along and shot them."

"I'll talk to her," he says and steps up into the ambulance. "Hi," he says to her sitting down slowly. "My name's detective Jack Ramirez. What's yours?"

"Jill," she says weakly still staring forward.

"Jack and Jill," he says with a smile. "I know you've been through a lot, but do you think you can talk to me about what happened in the alleyway?" Looking down she breathes in her nose and

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