I'm exhausted. Ten straight days of double shifts with no end in sight. We have two dead women identified as known prostitutes and I'm worried there will be more. Standing from my desk, I stretch and try to alleviate the pain in my middle back from writing this damned report for more than three hours. My joints pop as I bend. I'm getting too old for this and I'm only thirty-two.

If anyone told me when I signed up to catch bad guys that being a cop consisted of eighty percent ...