Her leg's feel heavy as she climbs the stairs to her apartment. Juggling a back-pack, brief case and a box of her own collected evidence she manages to get the keys out of her pocket and place them in the door. That's odd... I was sure I locked this when I left today. I must need to sleep more than I thought.
Christine pushes the door open, sets the box on the coffee table. Slinging her brief case and back pack down on the couch she collapses next to them.
Reviewing the day in her mind she retraces her steps.
She arrived at the crime scene and her SO had been giving her a hard time for being around at all. The case is personal, you shouldn't be here. But no one grudged her for wanting to be involved. But there was something the SAC said that bothered her. Or... it was he didn't say. He seemed to be holding back on her.
"How's the investigation going?" she'd asked.
He had the faintest bit of pause when he saw her approach. Then wh…