"Keep a lookout on all the exits." I called over my shoulder. I held my Sig firmly in my grasp as I scanned the interior of the building, searching for signs of movement. I knew that my coworkers and I weren't welcomed here.

"Unbelievable." Behind me, Hayes' deep timbre broke the deathly silence. I nodded my head with a knowing smile.

"I know, right?" I surveyed the messy living room. Objects had been thrown onto the hardwood floor, beer bottles and needles distributed throughout the furniture. A few joints were scattered on the coffee table. "Either these guys never figured on getting caught, or they're flat out idiots."

"Probably a little of both," Walker stepped over to the collapsible table in the corner of the room. A thin white powder graced the surface. He swiped his gloved hand across it and held it to his nose. "Tay, you're a genius." He turned and grinned at me. "Morphine. Smells like it's been tampered with. Maybe they were trying to make coke?"

"Maybe." I peered out the front window, then stole a quick glance at my watch. It was six-thirty. Mr. Mason and his partners would arrive in half a hour. "But regardless, we're running out of time here. What do you say we go ahead and scope out the place, see where we can stay hidden while these morons give us some more evidence?"

"Sounds good." Hayes replied.

"Okay, I'll go check out the second floor, yell if either of you find anything."

"Sure thing." I nodded in acknowledgement of Walker's response, then sprinted to the staircase. I carefully picked my way up the wooden steps, cautiously stepping only near the edge of the boards and testing each one before I placed my full weight on it.

The moment I ascended the last step, a horribly foul odor assaulted my nose. My stomach churned. "Tell me that's not what I think it is." I murmered as the stench grew stronger.

A stout fragrance all its own filled the silent air, making me feel sick to my stomach. I had first been exposed to that smell when I was only thirteen, but every time I caught a hint of it in the air it always made me nauseous.

The scent of death.

I took several stabilizing breaths and breathed deeply. The scent was coming from down the hall. I gingerly stepped toward it, praying only a dead animal awaited me. But as I picked my way across the worn wooden boards, that hope was quickly dashed. A faint red streak had stained the wood. I knelt and gently brushed my hand against the floor. Please, no. I silently pleaded.

But all the begging in the world wouldn't spare me from what I was about to find.

I straightened and directed my steps toward the source of the smell. My left hand slid to cover my firearm. The rotting wood floor creaked beneath my feet, fraying my already unsettled nerves.

Deep breath, Justice. Keep it together.

I quickened my pace.

I halted as I came to the last door in the hallway. The stench was now so strong I almost gagged on it. I pulled a latex glove from my pocket and slipped it over my right hand. If I was right about this, the last thing I needed was for my fingerprints to end up on that door. I gingerly placed my hand on the door handle.

Locked.

I backed up several steps, then thrust my boot into the wooden door. The frame bent as the door ripped from its hinges, resulting in a loud crash. The odor rushed to great me as I peered inside the dimly lit room. Bile formed in my throat, threatening to spill any second. I swallowed hard and stepped over the threshold. "Oh, dear God." My shoulders dropped.

The body of a young woman lay slumped on the floor. I assumed she had been dead for a good four or five days based on the rate of decay and that horrible stench. Dry blood surrounded the corpse. I noted a bullethole in her forehead. If she was killed by the same person, clearly he improvised on his MO.

I turned away from the sickening sight. I stepped back into the hallway and moved to the railing, just to spot Walker and Hayes combing the living room beneath me. "Guys," I called. "There's something up here you need to see."

I waited by the head of the staircase as my coworkers picked their way up the wooden steps. The moment the two men stepped onto the landing, Walker scrunched his nose. His expression changed as he recognized the smell. He turned to look at me, alarm flashing in his eyes. "I have a feeling you didn't call us up here to check out more drugs. Please don't tell me...."

A sad smile crossed my face. "Unfortunately, we're going to need to call the coroner as soon as we get these f... guys arrested." I turned and led the way to the crime scene. My stomach did a little flip with each step I took.

I had been a cop for a long time, but murder scenes never ceased to tear my heart out. Sure, Austin had its share of violent crimes, like the yogurt shop murders in the nineties. But since I had taken this job, I had been subjected to crimes that made even my bulletproof demeanor shaky. Being in law enforcement had changed me. Never again would I see a kitchen knife without recalling gut-churning cases, or hold a gun without remembering the horror of having been forced to kill someone for the first time.

Then again, I had never been able to do that in the first place.

I eased into the room, Walker and Hayes behind me. "Oh, no. She's young." Walker stepped past me and knelt beside the body, careful not to touch her.

He was right. The woman looked only to be in her mid to late twenties, not much older than me. Anger burned in my heart. Was Mason responsible for this? Or one of his friends? How could anyone do this to another human being?

I stepped out into the hallway, forcing myself not to hammer the wood railing. I can't let them get away with this. My jaw clenched. If I weren't wearing that badge, I very well might teach these cutthroats a lesson they wouldn't soon forget.

It was true I abhored street justice, but sometimes the idea of ridding the world of parasites tempted even me. Don't go there, Justice.

***

Kyle turned to look at his partner. "Where did Taylor go?" He had been so absorbed in examining the victim he hadn't seen her leave the room.

"She's in the hallway." Ryan reply was accompanied by a glance over his shoulder. Kyle's gaze wandered past his friend. Taylor stood by the railing, clutching it with both hands. Even with her back turned to him, he could tell she was angry. He cast a quick look toward his watch. Six forty-five. The drug dealers would arrive any second. They better get into position.

"You alright?" He asked as he stepped up beside her. She didn't answer. Didn't even acknowledge him. "Taylor? Are you okay?" He repeated. Still no response. "Taylor?" He said slightly louder. Taylor started. He grabbed her arm to prevent her from falling over the railing.

She turned to look at him and blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"These scumbags will be here any minute, we should probably get set."

She glanced down at his hand, still holding her by the wrist. She twisted herself free and backed up several paces. "Of course." She moved around him and glanced down at the first floor. "I.... I'm going to go ahead and get ready for them."

"Taylor?" Kyle called. She stopped.

"What?"

"Are you okay? You seem kind of spaced out or something."

She turned her head with a slight smile. "I'm fine. Just lost in thought, I guess. You coming?"

Kyle nodded just as Ryan walked out of the room. "Let's get this done."

***

They're about to come through the back door. Mason, Brooks, and Patterson. Be ready, they're armed.

My eyes scanned Hayes' text. I hovered beneath the staircase, my Sig Sauer firmly in my grasp. I kept my response short and to-the-point. K. I sent it just as the back door burst open. Flinching, I tightened my grip on my weapon. Walker was hidden behind the restroom door, just out of sight. Hayes was in the kitchen, acting as informant. His report that the men were armed only frayed my nerves further. Images of gunfire exploding flashed before my eyes. I took a stabilizing breath and adjusted my stance. Concentrate. Walker and Hayes' lives could be depending on you.

Footsteps shuffling into the room captured my thoughts. I turned my head and saw the three criminals stalk into the room. I recognized the one in the lead as Mason from his mugshots. He held a zip lock bag containing a white powder in his hand. Morphine, if I got my guess.

The men moved to the collapsible table. Mason emptied the bag onto the bare surface. I typed a message to Walker. Distraction. Thirty seconds. His response was almost instantaneous. You got it. I took a deep breath as I slid my phone into my pocket. Twenty-five seconds. I silently placed my finger on the triggerguard of my Sig. Twenty seconds.

Adrenaline rushed through my veins. Ten seconds. I soundlessly moved out of the safety of my hiding place. I crouched low to the ground, weapon raised. Five, four, three, two

One.

A burnt piece of wood from the fireplace soared through the air. The three men pivoted and drew their pistols. I jumped to my feet and aimed my own sidearm. "Nobody move, unless you're fond of bullets in your skull." The trio halted. My tight muscles relaxed a little. At least they hadn't tried to pepper me with bullets in response to my order. "Now, lay your weapons on the table, and place your hands on the wall where I can see them."

Apparently, the criminals had different ideas in mind than I did.