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It had been one of those cases.

Not one like Wendimoor, where the stench of death and blood gets into the skin and hair and doesn't seem to go away. Not one of the big, universe is reshaping itself around a fault cases. They hadn't had one of those in the three months since they opened the agency, which was a huge relief, frankly.

It was just one of those really grimy, dirty, trawling all over and into everything cases. By the time they got back from the client, Todd just wanted to crawl into the shower and then sleep for a week and hope he didn't dream about disgruntled trees trying to sit on them, smother them or hurl fruit at them.

Farah parked the jeep and stopped long enough to step out of the coverall she had very sensibly put on when coming to find the two of them. It was put in a garbage bag with the boots and she pointed at them. "Do not track mud and everything else through the Ridgely. Strip down, put things in bags then you can come in."

And she was off inside.

Todd sighs and resigns himself to stripping to shorts before they can go to their apartments and showers.

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Todd Brotzman

May 2020

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