I hadn’t put quality time into this case in months, but tonight I felt a fire in my belly.

My phone pulsed and I grabbed it. I was thinking it might be Remy, but I was wrong. It was Kelly Borland. Funny, I’d just thought of her.

Doing anything tonight?

I typed back.

Working on a case. Sorry. Miss hanging out with you.

The three dots blinked and a new text appeared.

Me too. Soon then? After your case is over?

I typed back:

For sure.

I switched my phone off, going back to the opening of the case in December 2017. To what was stolen and how patrol first got to the liquor store.

I unclipped the case extract, breaking the file into pieces, mimicking the normal sections that make up a murder book. Even though the case was a robbery and not a murder.

Separate sections for witness statements.

For detectives’ notes.

For evidentiary matter.

Organize the information in a fresh way. And start from zero.

For this case, that began with a call on December 12 to 911.

I stared at the transcript, which was typed and pasted into my notes from two years ago.

Operator: 911, what’s your emergency?

Caller: A guy just came in here. Fuckin’ robbed us.

Operator: I see your address is 2016 Pike Street. Is that correct, sir?

Caller: Took his fuckin’ time after he hit me too. Got a damn Cherry Coke.

Operator: Sir, is anyone seriously injured or shot?

Caller: No. Thank God. But son of a bitch, my heart is rac—

Operator: Sir, can you still see the <inaudible>?

Caller: No, he’s gone.

Operator: Good, are you in a safe place, sir? Are you okay?

Caller: He hit me in the fuckin’ head, so no. I’m not okay. He had a gun to my face.

Operator: Officers are on their way, sir. Can I get your name?

Caller: He was a white guy. He had a single bro— <inaudible>

Operator: What was that?

Caller: —tattooed.

Operator: You’re cutting out, sir. Can I get your name?

Caller: Christian.

Operator: Christian what?

Caller: Pelo. Like yellow, but with a p.

Operator: Can I confirm your address is—

Caller: Yeah, like you said before. The Golden Oaks. Pike and 20th.

Operator: Officers are on the way. Would you like me to stay on the line?

Caller: Not if someone’s coming this <inaudible>

Operator: Excuse me?

Caller: What?

Operator: I’m sorry, sir, what did you—

I flipped the page forward and saw that the call ended. I remembered Christian telling me he hung up in frustration. At the questions the woman was asking. How he couldn’t hear her. How his head was throbbing from the hit he’d taken.

On the next page were the notes taken by Emmanuel Bastian, the first patrol officer who responded to the call. Bastian was an older guy, and I’d been to his retirement party last year.

At the top of the page, the report listed the address of the Golden Oaks, along with the type of incident, which was first-degree robbery and assault, along with criminal codes 16-7-1 and 16-5-20.