Suzette reminded herself once again, “control is an illusion”. Having said that she was still frustrated at the length of time it was taking to find answers to questions either ignored or passed over.

As a detective on the force for twelve years, she knew the ropes, the rules, the scenarios, the hoops she’d have to go through to find the answers to the questions plaguing her but still, she couldn’t hold back the aggravated sigh from escaping.

Was Morrison being obtuse, difficult, or vengeful? He was known for all three when he didn’t get his way and she wasn’t about to give up or give in on this one. It hit too close to home.

Her uncle, a man of honour and integrity had been gunned down outside his home when he’d gone out to break up a fight between two kids he’d known since early childhood. Both were good kids, nothing overt or mysterious, no gang affiliations, nothing to indicate what had happened that day.

The fact she was an outsider, not from this detachment, hadn’t helped much. She didn’t know the players, possibilities, or rule makers.

Her uncle had been known for his kindness but he was also a firm believer in justice and he held the justice system to a higher standard and called out any activity he felt wasn’t up to the code of integrity and honesty, hence, he wasn’t looked upon favourably.

This would play out in it’s own time, but she was here now and determined to make it right. She owed her uncle that, not only because he was a family member, but because he stood for justice in all things.

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