Devil's Nest

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Betrayl over Brooklyn

It was late... a little past midnight when Leslie pulled herself away from the desk. Elbow deep in report papers and files she was forced to put together for the FBI, single handily giving the case over to agents that barely stick their nose into local murderers; but because the commissioner were friends with the FBI director he managed to pull some strings. This time the case was taken away from Leslie, she basically gave it over because of her simple minded actions that should of been planned probably; because of her confidence it back fired in her face, twice.

Home wasn't where she wanted to be, actually she walked by several bars that were screaming her name that night; it was too hard to push them out of her head- at least until she was safe away from enemy lines when she drove into her street where her apartment was waiting faithfully. This time the shower and bed was screaming out her name when she entered the room and immediately stripped out of her clothes, the only thing missing is the man that can warm the two up and comfort her. However, her phone did ring alive after eight hours of isolation.

"Hello?" Leslie answered in the best non-depressed voice she could muster up.

"Hey where are you?" Evelyn was too excited after going into work two hours ago.

"On my way to hell." In other words, to bed crying in her pillows after a long day of defeat and sorrow as society was roved to her once again that woman shouldn't contain masculine jobs.

"Well dig yourself out of there because I have a tip I can throw your way. Meet me at the hospital in hurry minutes." Just then, Leslie's hope formed in her chest- it was a small cloud that wouldn't pass by as cigarette smoke but it was enough to put on more relaxing clothes.

The hospital was crowded after midnight, the dark hours were the most dangerous time for anyone; more people become injured every single minute of the night or they overdose on god know what. Either way, Leslie hasn't been on that type of duty in a really long time and she hasn't planned on going back. Evelyn came dashing out from the back area of the ER and pulled Leslie along to the break room not too far away from the screaming drug addicts and worried mothers.

"Aren't you busy?" Les asked once her best friend locked the door so no extra set of ears would hear.

"I'm on break." Eve pulled out a thin sheet of paper with her pencil markings all over it. "We did have someone come in during the week of the murder with claw marks and a fork wound in his arm. The thing is he left out before the hospital could actually put him in the system and left cash. Isiah Hamilton." She handed over the paper with a proud smile.

Leslie examined the information and sighed heavily, "Thank you Eve, unfortunately the FBI is going to take the case soon so..."

"Bullshit!"

"True shit. Two girls killed in a public area with actual cops around wasn't a good look for the station. But thank you, really appreciate it. I gotta go and catch up on my Z's."

Evelyn unexpectedly wrapped her arms around Leslie, giving more comfort than she have received in over a month. Leslie certainly needed it, but being that Eve smelt of bleach and Ill people- the hug wasn't as effective. The nurse finally pulled away seconds after before Leslie pushed her off, the detective's stomach was starting to churn- being that she visited more crime scenes than an average detective, it was quite surprising how she reacted to the familiar smell (minus the bleach).

The short lived silence between them was ruined by the intercom calling out some random Hotshot doctor along with the bing on Leslie's phone. Either someone died or a bootycall... how about neither.

D: Are you awake?
Les: Yeah. What's wrong?
D: We need to talk.

Just that: 'We need to talk', the most used and hated text in history of phones- the only thing that can make a person worry so much. "Christ... D'Angelo wants to talk."