June the sixth, 2002

6:27 A. M.

Detective Remington was awakened by the ringing of his bedside phone. He didn't want to pick up, but knew it must be a lead on the case that he had to follow, and he couldn't ignore something like that. He rolled over and picked up the contoured-to-fit-your-hand receiver and cleared his throat. Whoever was on the other line took that as a signal to start talking, and as they did, James stood up, set the machine on speakerphone, and stretched. It was going to be a very long day.
A scratchy, somewhat shaky voice acted his wake-up call. "Lieutenant Marcus Remington?"

"It's Marc, actually, but yeah. What is it?" He was definitely not in the mood to be called in. Remington stood up—he wasn't getting any more sleep that morning—and stretched, yawning openly in the process.

The voice went on. "This is Luke Myers from forensics, and we've uncovered some evidence you may find interesting. The captain informed us to call you for chief processing." There was a time of quiet. "We request you come in as soon as possible, sir."
Another yawn. "Yeah. Sure, sure. Just give me a minute to wake up. And get dressed…and eat…and—you know what? Just wait, will you? I'll be down in half an hour, at the most. OK?"