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It had been two weeks since the Christian fundamentalist Milford clan had ended their existence on this Earth by blowing themselves up rather than face arrest, ending their rampage of antigay murders. They didn't like it when they were finally cornered by the police for conducting their own personal "holy war" against the gay community of Prince George County, Maryland. Officer Patrick St. James had been on light duty since the event, at the suggestion of the department shrink. Patrick had experienced extensive violence over a relatively short period of time, including having taken a human life in the line of duty. This act, perhaps more than almost anything else that a police officer experiences, is the most stressful.
After the incident, Dean, Patrick's wonderful new lover, had spent every free minute with him. They had become inseparable. Patrick felt great comfort with Dean and believed that he was truly lucky to have found him. When they made love he forgot about time and space; the only thing that mattered in the universe was this wonderful man, this incredible lover. Dean remained uncomfortable with Patrick being a police officer, especially after the Milford case. They had the same talk that every couple, straight or gay, has when one partner is a cop. Dean wanted to make sure Patrick came home at the end of each shift, unhurt and whole, in every sense of the word.
Pat hurried home, as it was his last day shift for some time to come. He was hoping to surprise Dean by having supper ready for him when he got home. As Pat pulled into the driveway, he looked in the rearview mirror and saw that Dean was right behindhim.
Getting out of their cars, they smiled at each other.
"Damn. I was going to have dinner waiting for you when you got home, but you just took care of that."
"Well, I remembered this was your last day shift for some time to come and I wanted to be home early. You want to go out for dinner instead of slaving over a hot stove?"
"Sure, but let me take a shower first," Pat said with a smile that communicated its own message.
Dean laughed and they entered the coolness of the house.
Pat took off his uniform, hung his police gear in the downstairs closet and went upstairs to the bedroom, throwing a look over his shoulder to see if Dean was watching. He stripped down to nothing and walked to the bathroom to get in the shower, where he found Dean naked and sitting on the tub. Dean had made a mad dash to the bathroom while Pat was disrobing in order to surprise him. He looked down at Pat's now growing dick and licked his lips.
"Well, this is a nice surprise. You plan on doing something with those lips besides lick 'em?" Pat asked with an obvious leer.
Dean reached over and turned the water on, got the temperature right, and motioned for his lover to get in with him. As the warm water cascaded off Pat's back and down the crack of his ass, Pat felt Dean's lips slowly kiss each ass cheek. Pat loved it when Dean did this, and Dean knew it. Once Pat grew completely hard, he turned around and saw Dean, who was now on his knees with the water splashing off his face. Dean's dick was also rigid and begging for attention. As Pat looked down at Dean's beautiful manhood, Dean took his lover's dick into his mouth and started to gently suck. He reached up with his right hand and fondled Pat's balls as he sucked the full length of his shaft. As Pat began to moan softly, Dean reached around with his left hand and began to caress Pat's right ass cheek. Pat was now fully consumed by the feelings that were coursing through his body. He wished those feelings would never stop.
Pat pulled out of Dean's hungry mouth as he felt himself begin to build toward a climax; it was way too early for that. Pat reached down and grabbed Dean's hands and pulled him to his feet. He kissed Dean deeply and with all the passion he felt for him. As Pat continued to kiss Dean, he began to think that this might be the man he would be very happy to spend the rest of his life with. He had fantastic looks, great brains, and a bright future. And he was fantastic in bed. What more could Pat wish for?
Pat broke from the kiss and slid down to his own knees, landing directly in front of Dean's engorged cock. The perfect beauty of his penis always stunned Pat, and he drove his mouth onto it with all the lust that was within him. Pat heard Dean let out a whimper as he began to vigorously suck him. He cupped Dean's balls in his hand and realized that he had shaved them; they were smooth and large to the touch. Pat took great pride in being able to take Dean's entire dick down his throat, which gave him vast pleasure. He began to moan loudly now as Pat sucked harder and harder, increasing the speed of his motion on his partner's cock. When he felt Dean's hands tighten on his head and saw his balls start to climb up under his cock, Pat stopped his sucking action.
"No, you don't! I have something else in mind for you, mister," Pat said with a smile. He stood up and told Dean, "Turn around, stud."
As Dean turned around Pat looked down and saw the magnificent mounds of his ass and almost blew his load right then and there. He grabbed both cheeks with his hands and kneaded them and caressed them, reaching around at one point to grab his lover's dick and stroke it a few times. Pat kissed and nibbled on Dean's neck and reached for the soap. He lathered up his cock and pushed some soap into Dean's butt hole, and then pressed his dick into the man he loved. Dean bent over in the tub and Pat slowly entered him, inch by inch. Dean moaned and urged him on, so Pat pushed all the way in and let it rest once inside.
Pat's mind exploded with a kaleidoscope of colors as he felt the searing heat of Dean's ass envelope his cock. He started to slowly move in and out of Dean, enjoying every bit of movement. Between the feeling of the water lashing over their bodies and the pure joy of ass-fucking Dean, he began to cum much sooner than he would have liked.
"Ahh, shit, I'm cumming," he moaned with disappointment.
"That's okay, babe. Give it to me, pound my ass!"
With that he emptied himself into Dean and felt intense relief wash over his body. As Dean straightened up in the shower, he turned around and kissed Pat even deeper than before.
"How would you like to get off my dear, hips or lips?" Pat asked with a laugh.
"I already did get off. I came while you were fucking me," came the response to Pat's question accompanied by a big smile.
"Nice, babe. Let's finish showering and get out of here before we turn into prunes."
As they finished drying off in the bedroom, Dean looked at Pat and said, "Ya know, I really care for you a lot and I don't want anything to happen to you. Would you ever consider giving up being a cop and come to work at the bank in the security department?"
"No, Dean, that's just not me. I enjoy being a cop and it's all I ever wanted to do. I know it's dangerous, but that's part of the allure for me. I like the danger."
"But if you worked at the bank, we wouldn't have to be as careful about being gay and our being lovers."
"Maybe so, but I just wouldn't be as happy in my work. Don't you understand that being a cop is more than just what I do for work, it's who and what I am?"
"Okay, I understand, I guess. Suddenly I don't feel like going out for dinner. Why don't we order some Chinese for delivery?"
"Okay; you know what I like. I'll see if there is anything worth watching on HBO. I think 'Deadwood' is on tonight."
The next evening it was time for Pat to get ready for work. He was returning to the midnight shift, which is where he liked to be. Dean and Pat had finished dinner, and Pat got up and began to get prepared for work. Pat noticed that he was being watched by his lover with a kind of nervous energy that was uncomfortable.
"Dean, you just have to relax about my job. I'm gonna be fine. I am well-trained, working with a bunch of other cops who are well-trained, and I like it. You need to relax or you'll become a ball of nerves every night and we just can't have that."
"Yeah, you're right, but I can't help the way I feel. I'll work on it, that I promise," he said with a smile.
Pat was more concerned about returning to his buddies and the active police environment than being hurt. He needed to make sure they didn't find out he was gay. He still worked with a lot of guys who just didn't like gay people, and they didn't seem like they would ever be changing their minds. At least he no longer had to ride with Flanders. Because of the major case Pat had just finished, he was being cut loose to ride by himself. He would have his own beat car and be responsible for a particular area of the county. Pat looked at his watch and saw that it was almost 9:30 p.m. He was due at roll call in thirty minutes. He quickly finished dressing, kissed Dean, flew out of the house, and left for the station.
As he walked into the roll call room, he noticed almost everyone had arrived before him. Sergeant Durkin looked up and nodded at him. "Welcome back, St. James. Good to have you with us."
"Thanks, Sarge," he replied, as the others all greeted him.
He settled into his seat and started to read the BOLO reports that told everyone what to look for during their shifts. Stolen cars were always the number-one item on the listing. From the look of things, it appeared to have been pretty quiet since the explosion and death of the right-wing clan from the Midwest.
"Roll call!" yelled Durkin to get the room quiet.
"All right, gentlemen, as you can see we have our star rookie back with us tonight. St. James resumes normal patrol duties, so we are back to full strength in the squad."
The Sergeant went down the list, assigning each man a beat car, and Pat finally heard his name and assignment.
"St. James, you have Adam 5 tonight. You did such a good job in that sector before, we'll just see if you can keep it up. Flanders, that moves you to Adam 9, and Capstone, you'll ride alone in Adam 6 and back up Adam 5 on calls. Any questions? Then hit the streets!"
Roll call was over and everyone got up to head to the armory to check out shotguns and then slide into the night in their cruisers. Hank and Pat had exchanged a few words and agreed to meet later for coffee at one of the numerous 7-Elevens that dotted the county like fleas on a dog.
"Don't get shot, St. James! I'm not there to babysit you anymore!" shouted Flanders.
"You worry about yourself there, Corporal. That should keep you busy enough to stay out of trouble!" he yelled back, as he pulled out of the station parking lot and headed toward his beat in College Park. College Park: playground for all the boys and girls from the University of Maryland, which was just down the street. If it weren't for the university, College Park wouldn't exist.
Since the first couple of hours were quiet, Pat decided to meet up with Hank. He switched to the private frequency that went inter-car only, and called for him.
"Adam 5, Adam 6?"
"Adam 6. Go ahead, Pat."
"You wanna eighty-two at the 7-Eleven on Central Avenue and Forty-Sixth Street?"
"Ten-four, en route."
It would take them both just a couple of minutes to meet at the 7-Eleven and get the coffee that would help them stay awake all night if there were no calls. He felt hungry as well and he knew he would end up getting a cop's favorite food: the doughnut. What a joy and a relief to have another gay officer on the squad who had become a close friend. Thanks once again to part gaydar, and part rumor, Hank and Pat had had one of those awkward chats where you try to find out if a guy is gay or not. A hooker at a squad pool party did the rest to make it obvious to Hank that Pat was gay. The real luck was in their being assigned together because of their ages and looks, to catch the killers who were targeting gay men in the Milford case. The department thought it was heroic of them to work undercover in gay bars posing as gay men. Little did they know.
Now they were practically partners as they worked adjoining beat cars.
Pat pulled in first just as Hank was turning the corner to come into the parking lot. They got out, went into the store, and got some coffee and a doughnut, like he knew he would. As they sat in their cruisers sipping the coffee, conversation flowed easily. He had come to like Hank a lot after working so closely with him on the serial murder case.
"So, how's the love life, Pat? Is Dean treating you right?"
"Ah, couldn't be better," he answered with a smile. "Dean is like a dream come true. He really is a remarkable man. He isn't just good looks; he has a big heart and really cares about people. What about you? Seeing anyone?"
"Nothing serious. Just a couple of one-night stands."
"Well, maybe we can all go out on a double date kinda thing one of these days. I think that would be fun."
"Adam 5, Adam 6, handle priority a 13F at the Schoolhouse Bar and Grill, Nine Six Four University Boulevard. Complainant is the bar manager, who states that seven to ten males are engaged in a fight on the main dance floor area. No weapons seen."
"Adam 5 and Adam 6 en route."
"Well, time to go to work, Hank!" Pat said, as they sped off to the fight call with lights and sirens.
As they sliced through the night en route to the bar, they heard Adam 4 and Adam 7 tell dispatch that they too were responding. Good, Pat thought. That's four of us at least, which should be enough. Traffic was light, as it was almost two in the morning and most good people were home in bed. As they entered the block on which the bar was located, they saw college kids pouring out of the bar, some of whom were covered in beer. It had obviously gotten wild during the fight. "Adam 5 and 6 out at the 13F."
"Ten-four, Adam 5 and 6, 0157 hours."
As Hank and Pat entered the bar, the smell of beer was overwhelming. They heard the fight coming from the back so that's where they headed. A bouncer with a bloody nose ran up to them and yelled, "It's way out of control. Those guys are drunk off their asses and aren't feeling any pain. I hit a couple of them hard and got nowhere!"
"Adam 5, keep 'em coming," Pat yelled into the mic. This told the other units that were responding that they were needed, along with anyone else in the area. As they rounded the corner and entered the dance floor area, they saw at least nine kids throwing punches and falling all over the floor. Most of the guys were bloodied like the bouncer and gave no signs of letting up. Hank started to brush past Pat to get into the fracas, and Pat grabbed him and yelled, "Let's wait for backup! No sense in getting our asses kicked and looking like rookies."
He believed that in these kinds of situations it was better to let the antagonists wear themselves out on each other and then move in to arrest what was left. A minute later, the other officers that responded to the call entered the bar and joined them. Adam 10, the Sergeant, also responded, and was on-scene now.
"Okay, St. James and Capstone, you guys take the ones on the left, Delaney and Morris with me on the right. Let's go!"
With that they moved in on the drunken brawlers and started to pull them apart using their PR-24 nightsticks as needed. When they had one down, the drunk was cuffed and left on the floor; then they went after the next one. In no more than two minutes, all were under arrest and handcuffed. All the officers heard now was moaning and groaning from minor fight injuries and the almost constant whine that the cuffs were too tight. As the officers hauled them to their feet for transport down to the station, Durkin told Pat to get the information for the report from the manager and then head to the station to type it up. The other officers would process the prisoners and take them before the court for bail hearings.
Pat spent the rest of the shift typing up reports and finished just as the shift ended. It felt good to leave the stationhouse, get in his cruiser, and head for home. Now that Pat was no longer a trainee riding with Corporal Flanders, he got what was called a "take-home cruiser," which meant that his duty car went home with him. He was permitted to drive it while he was off-duty as well, as long as he didn't leave the county. It was part of a program to put more cruisers on the road, which made it appear as if more cops were working. Pat certainly didn't object; it saved him money on gas and wear and tear on his personal car.
Just as he arrived at home, Dean was getting up for the start of his workday.
"Good morning, sweetheart." Pat gave Dean a kiss on the lips.
"Good morning. How was work?"
"Not too exciting. Just a bunch of drunk, horny, good-looking frat boys, feeling their oats," he said with a smile, as he walked up the stairs to go to bed.
Nothing much happened the rest of the week and, before Pat knew it, it was his weekend. In this rotation, he had Tuesday and Wednesday off. Trouble was that it was not the weekend for Dean. Like most of the world, his days off were Saturdays and Sundays. The only cops that got weekends off were desk jockeys and the brass. As a result, Pat had little to do when he got up in the late afternoon besides go to the gym, work out and take a swim.
He tried to keep his body in top shape; the job required it if he was to avoid getting many injuries. Besides, he never minded checking out the other guys at the gym, even though he was kinda married. No harm in looking and enjoying.
As he entered the steam room at the club, he noted only one other guy in there. He nodded to him as he sat down, keeping the towel wrapped around his waist. While the temperature was hot, it wasn't the kind of heat that made it hard to breathe. As Pat looked up, he saw that the other guy had opened his towel and was making sure Pat got a good look at what God gave him. He looked away after checking out his equipment and tried to remember that he had a boyfriend now and that he was a cop in this county.
As he looked back after a minute, the other guy was now jacking off lightly and smiling at him. Pat couldn't help but look down and admire his stuff.
"You wanna join me over here, guy?"
"No thanks, I gotta go anyway. Be careful. I hear there are cops that work out here," he said with a smile as he got up and walked away, proud of himself for turning down the hot stud with the hard-on.
"Not to worry. I can spot a cop a mile away."
As he entered the shower, he was grateful for the cold water pouring down on his body and taking some of the heat out of it. Normally, he wouldn't have done anything with the guy in the steam room, but he would have gotten his number or agreed to meet outside to go somewhere. He wasn't tempted to do either because he was so thankful to have Dean; a piece of ass wasn't worth jeopardizing that happiness. Maybe he was starting to grow up a little. The whole world wasn't just one big giant dick!
When he got home he saw that it was almost time for Dean to arrive. He quickly threw a premade dish into the oven, and went upstairs. He entered the bedroom and tore off his clothes and jumped onto the bed. He may not have tricked with that guy, but he sure was hot over the incident. Dean would greatly profit from this state of mind and body.
He heard the key go into the door lock and smiled.
"Hello, I'm home!"
"Hi. I'm up here just waking up."
Dean walked into the bedroom and saw him lying on the bed, naked, with a huge hard-on. He looked down, smiled, and asked, "Is that for me?"
"Well, it ain't for the milkman!"
Dean laughed out loud and started to slowly take off his clothes. When he was all the way down to his Calvin's, he said, "I'd better take a very quick shower first, stud. Don't want you hesitant to put your tongue anywhere you desire, now do I?"
With that he left the room quickly and got into the shower. The thought crossed Pat's mind to join him again, but he resisted, realizing that it would be more comfortable in bed. As he waited for Dean's return, he kept his rock-hard erection by thinking about the stud at the gym. He chastised himself for even thinking about that guy as he was about to make love to Dean.
Dean came back into the bedroom not fully dried off and lunged onto the bed. They kissed deeply and with great zeal. Pat pushed him down onto his back and lowered his lips to his partner's nipples where he began to gently lick each one, teasing it, making it hard. Dean began to moan with pleasure, as this was his main erogenous zone. Pat then worked his way down Dean's chest and stomach toward his now erect cock, which was waiting for Pat's full attention.
As he ran his tongue over Dean's shaft, Dean almost vibrated off the bed.
"Gawd, that's good!" he yelled.
With that kind of encouragement, Pat was motivated to make sure this was the best blowjob Dean had ever had. As he deep-throated him for what seemed like ten minutes, Dean continued to pull on Pat's hands to get him up to his face. He finally let go of Dean's cock when Dean tapped him on the head, which was the signal for, "Hello, I'm gonna cum if ya don't stop sucking."
Before Pat could kiss him again, he found himself on his stomach, not his back as he had anticipated. He thought he was in for a good fucking but instead of a probing finger he felt the warm, wet sensation of his lover's tongue on his ass. Pat virtually saw sparks when Dean drove his tongue deep into his asshole. His toes curled and he grabbed the headboard in pure ecstasy. If there was one thing that Dean excelled at in bed, it was eating ass!
Dean continued to drive Pat wild with this incredible pleasure until he begged for him to fuck him. He wanted nothing else at that point but to have Dean's cock driven repeatedly into his ass.
When he stopped, he reached over into the nightstand and retrieved the lube and rubbers.
"Don't you want some head first, Pat?"
"Fuck no, just shove your cock up my ass, Dean. I need to be fucked good!"
He felt the pressure against his opening from the head of Dean's cock and relaxed himself so that Dean could slowly enter him. As his cock sank deeper and deeper into his ass, Pat felt the primordial urge to become one with him.
"Fuck me, and fuck me hard!" he ordered. Dean's rim job had driven him over the edge of lust and he needed to get pounded.
"Okay, babe, you asked for it!"
With that Dean started to fuck his ass with increasing speed and deeper thrusts. It felt incredibly good to have his man fucking the hell out of his compliant ass. Dean reached down and pulled him up at the hips so that they were now fucking doggy style. This was Pat's favorite position and Dean knew it.
Pat started to stroke his cock as his ass was being well-fucked. He could feel Dean's balls slapping against his ass cheeks each time he drilled his cock into him. The faster he fucked, the faster he stroked his cock. Finally, he heard Dean start to moan, and he yelled, "Don't stop now; just finish it!"
With that Dean exploded into his ass, his body shaking violently. It was all Pat needed to climax and shoot all over the bed sheets. As his strokes slowed to a crawl, Dean finally collapsed onto Pat's back and they fell onto the bed. Dean could feel his cock start to slowly withdraw from deep within his lover's ass and he felt total contentment. He slipped out and rolled off onto his back.
"Incredible, Dean. I needed that." Pat smiled. "I don't know what got into you, but that was fantastic!"
He reached over and pulled the rubber off of Dean's cock and threw it into the trash can, then got up and went into the bathroom and leaped into the shower and rinsed the cum off of his body. He returned with a wet washcloth and wiped off Dean's cock and balls.
"Honey, let me change the sheets and then you just take a nap, and I'll call you for dinner," he gently said to Dean.
With that, he threw on his shorts and went down to the kitchen to make sure dinner was nearly ready.
Two nights later, he was back on the Adam 5 beat once again. The ever-present summer humidity had been cut by a recent thunderstorm that had blown through the area. It was just after midnight when the call came out. A high-pitched tone signaled that an urgent emergency call was coming, and was followed by the call from dispatch:
"Adam 5, Adam 6, Mary 9, see the manager at the Fox Ridge Inn and Bar, Queens Chapel Road and Barrett Road. Report of a homicide at that location. Adam 5, handle priority."
"Adam 5, ten-four."
The "Fox Ridge Inn and Bar" was the new name of the motel-bar complex that used to be known as the "Jump It" bar and motel. The owners had changed the name after the murders of gay men by members of the right-wing religious group. In light of this call, it might have been a useless gesture. He couldn't help but think that they might not have gotten all of the killers from that group. Did one survive? Please, God, no!
Pat arrived on-scene and found the manager waiting outside. It was the same manager he'd dealt with during the Milford Clan investigations.
"Officer, I can't believe it. Not again!" the manager said.
"Okay, calm down. What did you find?" Pat asked, as he heard the approach of the other units.
"It's been a real quiet night and I was just about to light up a cigarette outside, when I got a call from the maintenance guy. He saw a door open and saw the dark outline of a guy on the floor in the dark."
"And?" Pat asked rather impatiently.
"After he found him he called me at the front desk and I ran to room five twenty-nine. I found the door open and the light off. I knocked and announced who I was and got no response. So, I entered the room and turned the light on and that's when I found the gentleman who appears to be dead."
"And did your maintenance guy see anyone leaving the room?"
"When I talked to him he said no. And by the time I got to room five twenty-nine, which is on the other side of the top balcony, someone could have left the room and I wouldn't have seen them."
"What do you have, St. James?" asked the homicide detective who had arrived on-scene.
"I don't know much yet--just got here--but we have a body in room five twenty-nine with no one seen leaving the crime scene. This is Mr. Morison, the night manager who called it in. He got a call from maintenance and when he got to the room he found our dead body."
Detectives Sheffield and Capstone and Pat headed up to the room, which had been locked up by the manager when the body was found. As they entered the room and turned on the light, they could smell the faint scent of death that occurs just after a person dies. The body was that of a white male, approximately twenty-four years old, black hair, blue eyes, about 6' 2" and 195 pounds. He was naked and his eyes were wide open, a look of surprise on his face. The room was fairly neat, except for the sheets and pillows, which had been moved about. It appeared that the deceased might have had sex before his death.
They took a closer look at the body and could see no obvious signs of trauma to the once good-looking, now deceased male. They found no evidence of another person having been in the room at all. It was possible that the death was by natural means.
"St. James, call the coroner and seal off the area for the evidence technicians. I want the entire room processed for prints and body fluids," Sheffield said. "Right now, we don't even know if we have a homicide here."
The coroner responded to the scene and removed the body after deciding he would need to do an autopsy to determine cause of death. Dr. Richards rarely gave guesses as to the cause of death at the scene unless there was an obvious sign, such as a gunshot wound to the head.
Pat was relegated to writing the report on the call and ended it with "pending investigation."
The rest of the shift went by without further incident.
A week later as Pat was getting dressed for work, Dean asked him a question. "How would you like to take one of those all-gay cruises we keep hearing about all the time? Danny and Mike went on one and said they had a blast. You can be yourself, and if I feel like kissing you during dinner in front of eighteen hundred guys, I can do it!"
Pat had to admit that the idea had some appeal to him. An entire enclosed environment where gay men and women could be themselves and taste the freedom that could be sounded great.
"Yeah, I think that would be kinda cool. Do you know what they cost?"
"Well, if we go to the Caribbean, there is an outfit called 'Ecstasy' that has prices from nine hundred dollars to about two thousand dollars. Really not bad, considering all the extras they throw in."
"I want a balcony cabin if we go. I'm more than fine with it! Make the arrangements and give me the dates so I can put in for vacation."
Pat went to work and, after taking a seat at roll call, he saw Homicide enter the squad room. Sergeant Durkin then introduced Detective Sheffield to the squad.
"Okay, listen up. Homicide is going to brief us on that body found last week at the gay motel."
"Gentlemen, we thought at first that we had a natural death on our hands, but as it turns out, the coroner has ruled the death a homicide. The autopsy revealed two things. The cause of death was strangulation. This tidy little ending for the victim was assisted by a generous injection of morphine; in fact, three times the usual amount of morphine used to treat severe pain was found in the blood of the victim. It seems he was injected, and then when he was unable to resist, he was killed. There was postmortem bruising on his neck and the coroner's office isn't really sure what was used to strangle him.
"There were also signs that the victim had anal intercourse just before his death. There was no semen found, so we assume that a condom was used or the killer is shooting blanks."
"Do we have an ID on the victim?" Capstone asked.
"The victim is twenty-four-year-old Russell Moran, a rather well-known male prostitute who had a previous bust for soliciting an undercover Vice officer. He was convicted and sentenced to one-year probation, and has not been in trouble since then. Since we don't have any witnesses and very little to go on, you all need to keep your ears open for any rumors going around as to who killed our victim. Oh, one final thing: Forensics did pick up a blonde hair at the scene. Now this could be from the suspect, or from a previous guest in that room. We just don't know. Any questions?"
No one had any questions, so the squad was given their shift assignments and they broke for the road. Hank Capstone was driving the Adam 6 beat, so Pat and he would be working together as mutual backup on any calls that came out. The Sergeant had hinted that these would be permanent beat assignments, at least for a couple of months. As they were leaving to get into their patrol cars, the Sergeant smiled at Pat, for no apparent reason. It wasn't an evil smile, just a plain ol' smile. Weird, he thought.