You Can't Run by Hope Davis (pdf e book reader .TXT) 📕

and so far had been unable to see the “city charm” her brother had always gushed about when he returned home every Christmas.

Naya squared her shoulders and headed for the glass doors. She wasn’t exceptionally tall standing at about five foot five, but she was both physically and mentally strong from years of being a cop and the backbone of her family. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass, her long dark hair was tied into a tight bun at the base of her neck and her dark chocolate eyes looked more tired than normal. Her skin seemed to be slightly dull  compared to its usual lightly tanned bronze tone. She made a mental note to make sure she took her vitamins when she got home, she couldn’t risk getting sick this soon at a new job.

She reached the door and pushed it open, surprising herself when it swung inward swiftly, then she let go of the handle so that it could silently swing shut behind her. A thin blonde woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun is sitting behind the desk directly inside the small foyer area. Naya surveyed the room taking in all the details, the woman’s name tag said her name was Jean. Naya opened her mouth to greet the woman but Jean beat her to it.

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Yes,” Naya cleared her throat when the word came out slightly garbled. “Can you please direct me to homicide? I’m detective Naya Largusa, I’m supposed to be starting today. “

Jean nodded. “Certainly, fourth floor, I’ll buzz up and let them know you’re coming. Welcome by the way.”

“Thank you.” Naya responded as she steered herself and her cardboard box towards the large shiny elevator. It amazed her how a building this imposing could be only one of many precincts in the department for downtown Denver. In La Junta they had only one precinct that consisted of three desks and a holding cell.

When the doors slid open she found herself in what appeared to be a busy office with an open floorplan. There were people chatting in groups at various points in the room, while others rushed from desk to desk delivering messages and possibly evidence. There had to be about fifteen desks, and the back wall was lined with doors which she assumed led to private offices, interview rooms and possibly even a holding cell. She was unsure how long she stood there drinking in the business of the room, but she suddenly became aware of all the eyes turned on her and blushed pink under their gaze.

“Hello, I’m detective Largusa, a transfer from La Junta?” Naya mentally slapped herself for sounding so dumb. Now no one would take her seriously here.

A kind looking gentleman stepped forward and held out his hand. He was tall, probably mid-forties, and in great shape. Naya could clearly see he took care of himself from the way he was trim and muscular while many men his age have let themselves go. “Stephen Atlas, I’m your partner, I’ll take you to your desk.”

Naya took his outstretched hand and gave it a quick firm shake then followed as he turned and led her towards the edge of the room. She took a quick catalog of Stephen Atlas’ appearance, after hearing his voice she was now even more sure he had to be above forty as he spoke with a certain maturity.  His hair was naturally a dark brown but was already peppered with a spattering of  grey hairs.  His complexion  was light and his skin was healthy, indicating to Naya that he probably never smoked or did drugs—both characteristics of a typical cop.

“Here’s your desk.” He motioned to an empty desk with an opened laptop to his right. “And this one’s  mine,” he gestured to the one next to it, there was no divider between them. “Everyone here just calls me Atlas, both on and off the radio.”

Naya nodded. It was a bit awkward between them but she figured they would warm up to each other in time.

“I read your file.” Atlas looked away as he admitted it. Cops generally didn’t read one another’s file out of respect, but she assumed he had been too curious to resist.

“And?” She asked, raising her eyebrow as she set her box on her desk.

He broke out in a grin. “It was pretty clean, even for a cop. I was actually a little disappointed.”

Naya laughed. “You were hoping to get a transfer for political reasons or something?”

He shook his head. “Nah, those guys don’t last long here, I just thought it was a weird career move from sheriff to detective.”

“I didn’t move for career reasons.” She said somberly, Naya didn’t elaborate and began to unpack her few belongings.

Atlas seemed to be waiting for her to continue but realized she never would. “Well, shall I give you the tour?”

Naya stopped unpacking and brushed off her hands, “Sure, just make sure you take me to your leader so I can get my new badge.”

Atlas saluted her jokingly. “No problem your highness, and off we go!” He spun around and began to proclaim names as they passed desks in rapid-fire. Naya couldn’t keep up and vowed she would go back to look at name plates later, but from what she could retain she was one of six detectives in the office, there were also various secretaries, assistant detectives, and a few tech guys who helped both on cases and around the office. There were more tech guys on another floor, but they used them so much these days a few had permanently moved to reside in homicide. There was a break room, the captain’s office, a few rooms for interviews and family and friends’, and then there was a sleep room, for when the shifts spilled past twenty-four-hours.

After his whirlwind of