***

        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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