Nicole’s hatred for the press started a year ago when she had a patient who happened to be a rap artiste. The guy got caught up in a shootout with an enemy gang that left him with a bullet in his chest.
Right after Nicole got out of the OR, she stumbled over a dozen journalists, each demanding to know if he's dead or alive; or if he's going to die or live and to what extent were his wounds.
"He'll be alright. The surgery was successful and he'll recover soon" she told them and went away. She thought she had escaped them; little did she know that it was just the beginning.
Nicole saw no rest since then; every journalist wanted to know the rapper’s health progress report every second, and they kept burning her phone, stalking and stopping her on the road, at the mall and any other place they caught a glimpse of her.
"Dr Ingermanson, I was just curious; was he brought to the hospital with all his 'Bling' intact?" Someone once asked her that question. She felt so embarrassed that day; and she never answered any call or spoken to any one of them again.
Nicole loves the easy life. Her dad and mom lived it and they were all happy. But considering how things got sour in just a few days, her life will be far from easy. Now she'll continue to be on the news for like, forever.
■■■■
Detective McNeil was having a bad day.
His kind of job needs patience and critical thinking. He's got the abilities, but at the moment, his patience was wearing out fast, he sat idle in his little cubicle, waiting.
His mind wasn't thinking about the news on TV with regards to the stolen painting. Neither was it on the pre-analysis of the case he had with his partner. His mind was on the fax machine sitting breathlessly in his office.
Ruben was waiting for the lab results of the exhibits taken from where the painting was stolen. He had called the lab earlier and they told him they'll get back to him shortly. Now, he had no idea what 'shortly' means in lab language; to him, it means 'forever'.
"Working late again?"
He raised his head and saw a colleague standing before him.
"Yeah." he said. "All set to go?"
She ignored the question
"You look like a female version of 007 with that hair and that face. I saw you on the news and you were hot." She smiled mockingly.
"Oh please; Tara, don't start. I'm not in the mood." He said rubbing his face.
"But that's what you want, isn't it? A tough cop on a big case showing the world how good he is and how he's going to handle things. You spoke to the cameras as if you've got superman powers."
"Tara; Don't!" He said sternly.
"It's the truth, look at you now; working late on a case that just began as if there's no tomorrow. Go home Ruben. Go watch hockey or get laid, or go to the bar and have beer friends. Don't sweat it on the first day. Live it, it's just a theft."
"It's a valuable theft." He retorted.
"See; that’s exactly what I'm talking about; you worry too much on something small. Look; you are a very good cop, good at what you do. But you are too obsessed with it that you make foes out of your friends every time you have a big case. It's not right." she sighed. "Anyway, I got to go babysit a nephew. Go home Ruben; you live only once." She turned and walked to the door.
"You're right about how good I am; but you're wrong about making the foes out of my friends."
"Yes you do. You could've given me that ring a year ago if not for that stupid case of stolen money. I still hold a grudge.’ She said and left. Ruben couldn't say a word.
Tara Adams is a homicide detective. Formally a marine; she joined the Nevada Police some years back and met Ruben while working on a case of robbery and homicide. They've spent almost two years dating and the night Ruben was supposed to propose to her, he got a call about a new case of stolen government money. He left and never speaks of it again. Hell of a situation.
Suddenly, a beep from the fax machine brought him back to his senses. He waited until the machine had finished printing the documents before he brought them out and looked. They were what he's been waiting for; but it seemed that they are not what he had hoped to see. What's in the papers just made his job more complicated.
The first two papers were results from the picture frame and the debris on the wall. It's been confirmed the frame was about ten years old and the debris was a bit less. That was encouraging for starters; he thought. Such kinds of paintings could be valuable because the older the painting the more valuable it is. Art collectors usually buy paintings and keep them for a while, and when they exhibit them in special auctions, they could make big sales.
The next paper was on fingerprints; there's none. The thief must have used gloves all through the operation; and coupled with the sucking fact that there are no surveillance cameras in the house, getting a meaningful identification would be difficult.
So technically; Ruben has nothing. His day just got a lot worse.
There's nothing so heart breaking on the job than to keep having dead ends on every lead. He sat alone in his desk rummaging through the papers; thinking hard.
He knew the difficulty associated with this type of case; whenever there's a dead end on a lead, one has to go back to the first clue to see if it could be possible to pick up another lead. That's exactly what he's going to do. Now that the press is already tagging along, the world would have their eyes on him.
As he put on his jacket, Tara's words rang in his mind; she was right about the way he worries too much. She got him on the bar stuff too; the getting laid part is not a bad idea. He smiled. It's kind of funny; no one knows him better than Tara. There were times when he used to get lost without her. Hell of a situation. He murmured.