The Philly Grind

ThePhillyGrind.net. The Philadelphia streets are tough, but the women of Philly are no pushovers. From homicide detectives to bounty hunters, "The Philly Grind" 4DStory reveals the dilemma's and struggles of these women, providing its fans with a portal to connection and empowerment. Fiction and suspense mingled with personal development and a network that inspires. It's as supportive as it is intriguing! ~Grit, Grind & Growth   

[thephillygrind-blog]

20 - Nina’s growing up and home life

“Sex was the great equalizer for me,” she had told Thea. “With my brothers I learned self-defense so I wouldn’t be their live-in maid. If I couldn’t beat them up, at least they knew they’d been in a fight. We came to an uneasy truce. They wouldn’t dump on me as the only girl in the family, and I did my share of chores without bitching. With sex, though, giving or withholding empowered me. I could get my way without my fists.”

Thea found that she, too, was a good listener, not finding it necessary to interrupt with questions. Sipping a beer, she just listened, happy for the company.“I played fast and loose, but remained in control,” Nina told her. “Boys had to wine and dine me, literally, if they wanted to get in my pants. I know it sounds callous … or calculating, but the promise of a good fuck got me further than brains, skill, or good looks. Men do think with their cocks, and I took full advantage of it,” she said, and they’d both laughed.

[thephillygrind-blog]

19 - Thea described the type of woman she is attracted

They drank in silence for a few minutes, listening to the chatter around them. Then Nina looked at Thea.

“So, what do you look for in a woman?” she asked, keeping her voice low, eyes locked on Thea.

“Actually, I’ve never given it much thought,” she said, mulling the question over in her mind. “I’m not going to say looks mean nothing to me, but they’re secondary. I do like them pretty and I’m not into fat. Someone my age, give or take. Old reminds me too much of my mother and I’m not into dating or … bedding my mother,” she said, choosing her words carefully for Ariel.

Her green eyes started to blaze as her description intensified. “A woman who intrigues me, who gives off a vibe. It doesn’t even have to do with her looks. Someone confident, but not cocky. A hint of mystery is nice, you know, someone who doesn’t wear her emotions on her sleeve. Haughty, bitchy, condescending, or domineering are definite turnoffs. I’m not looking for someone submissive either, but someone who’ll meet me halfway.”

“Most of all, I guess,” she continued, “I’m attracted to someone who forces me to give her a second, third, or fourth look. It’s hard to express, but it’s … well, it’s an I-know-what-I-like-when-I-see-it kinda thing. I’ll feel my heart beating faster, I’m distracted, tingly—even hot.” She decided against saying she would feel wet between her thighs for Ariel’s benefit, but looking at Ariel she couldn’t resist a zinger to end the conversation. “I wouldn’t kick either of you out of bed and physically you’re as different as night and day.”

Nina had smiled at the last while Ariel was again choking on her beer. Thea and Nina both laughed and Ariel had quickly steered the conversation away from the bedroom.

How can so much pain lead to so much Growth?

Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit ThePhillyGrind.net.

[thephillygrind-blog]

18 - Nina refuses to come out of the closet

The problem was Nina was a cop, one in her own squad no less. If they went public, it would only reinforce what Thea had insisted were the unfounded fears of others. Hughes had been on the prowl from day one, they would say behind her back—or furtively, but within earshot so she would hear. Nina Rios had most definitely been straight, they all knew.

Thea must have turned her. Hit on her when she was vulnerable, just as she might hit on any one of the other women in the department when she tired of Nina. It was a commonly held perception lesbians were promiscuous. If Thea had gone after Nina, they’d assume they were all fair game. The ugliness of her first months on the force would resurface with a vengeance.

The problem was further compounded by the fact that though Nina loved Thea, she hadn’t reconciled herself to the fact she was a lesbian, if in fact she was. And, therein lay the rub. Until Nina came to grips with her sexual identity Thea was suddenly as much in the closet as if she had tried to hide the reality she was gay. Their relationship became stagnant, and for Thea, stifling.

How can so much pain lead to so much Growth? 

Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit ThePhillyGrind.net.

[thephillygrind-blog]

17 - Thea ponders her relationship with Nina

When Thea got home it was close to three-thirty in the morning. Nina wasn’t there and Thea felt relieved. Instantly guilt washed over her for the unkind thought. She told herself she wanted to mull over what she had learned from the girl found on Lincoln Drive and needed no distractions, but deep within she knew she was deluding herself without much success. She was in the midst of an affair with Nina. Loved Nina, but wasn’t yet in love with her.

She sighed. Sometimes it was best to distance yourself a bit then return with a fresh perspective. She wondered if she was referring to the case or Nina, but her thoughts were clearly on her lover. Thea didn’t intend to enter into a relationship with Nina, but sometimes love just creeps up on you and bites you on the ass, she had rationalized. In hindsight though, there had been clear signals from the very beginning. Had she been so miserable, she wondered, that she had ignored what now appeared so obvious?

Thea didn’t fear falling in love, nor the ensuing commitment. She would have welcomed it after five lonely years.

How can so much pain lead to so much Growth?

Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit

ThePhillyGrind.net.

[thephillygrind-blog]

16 - Samuels Finishes His New Painting

Thomas lay next to her when they’d finished, each breathing deeply. Their lovemaking had caused the flow of blood to increase and he playfully drew designs on her stomach and breasts.

“Stop the blood now. You promised,” she said, weakly. “Then we can make love again.” Her words wouldn’t have made a difference, but for the first time she had lied. He heard the plea in her voice, but also the manipulation. Let me live and I’ll let you fuck me again. Playing with his mind. He admired her so, but refused to acknowledge.

“You disappoint me, Yvette,” he said instead, feigning despair. “You had been so true to yourself, yet now out of desperation you try to deceive me. I wish you hadn’t. I don’t want you to die, I truly don’t, but you leave me no choice. I won’t be manipulated. It’s a side of you I loathe.”

It was the last words he spoke to her. He continued to lay next to her, their eyes locked on one another. There was a hint of fury, of betrayal, even self-recrimination at her deception. Then she crumbled and for the first time she cried. An hour, maybe two passed and her eyes clouded and, like his beloved Yvette, she was gone.

Naked, caked with her blood, he went to his easel and began to paint her, the scar on his face pulsating with life. He had thought long and hard about his failure to replicate his Yvette and had come to the conclusion that too much time had elapsed before he had been able to paint her. Her soul, which he thought he had carried within him, had spoiled like raw hamburger left on a table too long. So now, before he disposed of this girl he would paint her.

How long he painted, he wasn’t aware, but he painted until he had emptied himself of her—until every fiber of her being was on the canvas—his paint along with her blood, hair, fingernail, and juices from when they’d made love. When he was done, in spite of his vows to his lover, a part of him had fallen in love with this child whose name he never knew. And while he knew he had to dispose of her for self-preservation, he refused to simply dump her like yesterday’s newspaper. How can so much pain lead to so much Growth? Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit http://ThePhillyGrind.net.

[thephillygrind-blog]

15 - Bring Yvette Back to Life in Portrait

“My fiancée, Yvette. This one,” he said, pointing to a portrait of an ebony black face, “I painted not long before we became engaged, after we’d first made love. I thought I knew her so well then, the many contradictions that simmered within her. But it’s rubbish. Yes, it looks like her. I’m what I like to call technically proficient. But I wanted so much more. I wanted to bring Yvette to life on canvas, but this,” he said with disgust, “a shell of the woman I adored.”

“Why am I bleeding?” she asked again, panic rising within her. She struggled trying to break free of the bonds that held her. She was not only unsuccessful, but the blood from her neck flowed more freely. He saw fear in her eyes, then resignation.

He pointed to a third painting. There was no face, no body. An abstract piece of art, the first he had ever attempted. Some bold strokes swept across the canvas. Others started then stopped abruptly. Still others just petered out. The colors were richer than the first painting—more visceral—a dozen shades of red intermingled with black. Hints of orange, yellow, and many hues of blue.

“I have no idea how long I painted. Hours. Maybe days. But I had my Yvette. We’d be together forever. I fell asleep beside her, content. I awoke appalled. I hadn’t created life. Yvette was there, to be sure, but not her essence. Again I’d failed and worse I could no longer summon up her presence within me.”

How can so much pain lead to so much Growth?

Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit ThePhillyGrind.net.

[thephillygrind-blog]

14 - Runaway Goes with Samuels

“Why me?” she asked, when she had gotten into his nondescript dark blue Taurus.

“The tattoos. Your inner self making its way to the surface. Those others you hang with they’re virtual strangers even to themselves. You … I feel I know already.”

She shrugged and relaxed in her seat. No comments. No questions. He didn’t make small talk on the short drive to his home on Tryon Street, a two-block blip on the map sandwiched between Lombard and South Streets. The girl said nothing as well, but continued to brush hair from her face. Nervous, he thought. Knowing going with a stranger was folly, but the decision made she wasn’t about to admit second thoughts might be gnawing at her.

He took her up a narrow winding staircase to the second floor which held his studio and a bathroom. Without a word she took off her clothes, folded them neatly in a pile, turned with her hands on her hips, and asked him where he wanted her to pose.

“Give me a moment,” he said, ignoring her, and left. He knew she would look at the paintings that hung on the walls − more portraits, all nondescript and devoid of the passion he had felt within when he had painted them.

He returned to find her sitting in a corner and he thought for a moment she was dozing. She bolted to her feet when he entered.

“Skittish,” he said, and noted her embarrassment. “Here,” he said, giving her a glass of wine, sipping from his own glass to further reassure her. “I want you relaxed. Not too relaxed, mind you. The tension within you is what I want released, but not the strain of being alone here with me.”

How can so much pain lead to so much Growth?

Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit

http://ThePhillyGrind.net

[thephillygrind-blog]

13 - Chapter 3, Samuels Finds His Next Victim

Thomas had spotted her several days before. She had been with other teens at Rittenhouse Square, a park in Center City that literally took up a full city block, surrounded by high-rises and retail stores. Her tattoos made her stand out from the crowd she hung with.

Others had tattoos, but hers were outward expressions of her inner turmoil. The beautiful butterflies no longer able to soar with their broken wings; the broken chain on her wrist, an attempt at freedom from the scars she still bore within; the unicorn on her arm, unapproachable dreams; the eyes on the back of her neck, suspicion. She was clearly the one, filled with a lifetime of experience amid the shallowness of those around her.

He had waited patiently to get her alone, no easy chore as she and her girlfriend hung together like Siamese twins. But her friend was now otherwise engaged, and this was his chance.

The tattoos on his arm were of turmoil, empowerment, and rebellion—something sure to interest her. In the park, others had admired her tattoos, which she wore as jewelry, and she was clearly flattered. He would get to her through the tattoos he was certain. He wore a burning American flag on his arm, a girl’s face with a serpent for her tongue, handcuffs twisted out of shape, a Black Power fist, and a pair of breasts dotted with tears of blood. “Just a sample,” he said. “I am an artist as I said, one of many talents. I paint you and you get a tattoo that speaks to you, speaks of you.”

She focused on him for the first time. He didn’t mind, though. If she turned him down, she would never recognize him later even if he approached her again. His beard, wig, even his nose were stage makeup, albeit expertly applied. Sky-blue contacts shielded his brooding brown eyes. Under a sweater and light coat he wore padding to broaden his frame.

How can so much pain lead to so much Growth? 

Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit http://ThePhillyGrind.net.

[thephillygrind-blog]

12 - The Bogus Call Strategy

“So, how do we identify the girl?” Morales said, looking at Ariel.

“Thea and I talked it over,” Ariel began. “Assuming she’s a runaway and also assuming she didn’t know her assailant, those who know her should cooperate. One of them could be next. It’s too late for first editions of the newspapers, but we can get a description of the girl on the morning news programs along with her tattoos. We think some anonymous tip will lead us to the victim.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Morales said, relaxing slightly.

“We don’t show all the tattoos,” Thea said, and Morales saw her steal a look at Ariel. Morales knew instinctively they hadn’t discussed what Thea now proposed. She was showing initiative. How Ariel dealt with it would determine the course of their partnership, he felt.

“There will be a special number to call, right?” Thea went on, when Ariel didn’t object. “We’ll hold one or two of the tattoos back.

This one,” she said, picking up one of the Polaroids from Morales’s desk and showing it to the others. It had been on the back of the victim’s neck—two distrustful, predatory eyes, nothing more. Eyes in the back of her head, Morales remembered Ariel saying Silver had commented.

“We tell whoever answers the calls to ask if there are any other identifying marks or tattoos,” Thea continued. “We can eliminate a lot of bogus calls that way.”

“What kind of bogus calls?” Morales asked.

“Parents of runaways who may have had a tattoo; desperate parents who would assume their rebellious daughter had gotten others since running away. We want to hear from other runaways she hung with. We hold this one back and we know who’s legit.”

“Ariel?” Morales asked.

“Makes sense,” she said with a shrug

How can so much pain lead to so much Growth?

Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit http://ThePhillyGrind.net

[thephillygrind-blog]

11 - A Serial Killer on Our Hands

“Go find your partner and let’s start over,” Morales said, and picked up a random file. He wondered what had brought out the Irish in Thea. It wasn’t necessarily bad.

He had wanted her to assert herself and maybe tonight she had. And possibly Ariel couldn’t handle it. Regardless, Thea had to watch her mouth in front of others. Words said in haste, in anger with others in earshot, could prove irreparable. If Thea was bent on self-destruction so be it, but Morales wouldn’t allow Ariel to go down with her.

When his two detectives returned, Morales decided to skip any foreplay and get right down to business. “Dampier, run down what we’ve got.” He looked at Thea for reaction, noted none, and relaxed. Ariel spoke for fifteen minutes, interrupted only by a few questions from Morales.

“So Silver thinks we might have a serial killer on our hands,” Morales said, when she had finished. “I tend to agree,” he added wearily. “We’ve got to make some progress and quickly, or hope this

first kill has satisfied the killer for a few weeks, maybe a month.”

He saw them looking at him without comprehension. “Look, one killing, probably a runaway, no big thing. After the second, at best the third, it’ll be out of our hands. A task force will be formed. You’ll be part of it, what with your first-hand knowledge and all, but you’ll be gophers, doing the bidding of others. You want to run with this case, the brass has to see results.” How can so much pain lead to so much Growth? Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit http://ThePhillyGrind.net.

[thephillygrind-blog]

10 - Morales Chastises Thea

Hughes, though, seemed too eager to be led and Morales thought Ariel may have been keeping her new partner on too short a leash. While he hadn’t underestimated Ariel’s ability to solve cases, as a mentor she might be lacking. Something he would have to keep an eye on. With a challenging case maybe they’d mesh—Ariel bending, Thea carving out her own identity. If not, it might be time to wean Hughes off of Dampier, force Thea to start making decisions on her own. With Thea seated, two sullen faces greeted him. The two sat as far apart from one another as possible in the tiny cubicle, and refrained from making eye contact. Hughes, in particular, seemed to be seething within.

“Do I sense tension?” Morales asked, keeping his tone light.

“Just a lover’s spat,” Thea shot back, then as if regretting her words, sank into her chair as Ariel’s face reddened.Morales sighed. It was time to intercede, now, not after discussing the case.

“Ariel, see if the prints forensics faxed over have given us an ID. I want to talk to Thea alone.”

Ariel looked at the two of them for a moment shrugged and left. Morales knew using their first names was his way of making them aware of his anger. He didn’t rant or rave and seldom raised his voice. Wouldn’t do so now with Thea, but he was furious, nevertheless, and Ariel was smart enough to sense she was being sent on a fool’s errand for a reason.

When she was gone he made eye contact with Thea.

“I don’t expect my detectives to get along all the time. You have differences with Dampier, fine, but did you hear what you said?”

“I know,” Thea said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. It slipped.”

“Not good enough,” he cut her off without raising his voice.

“I’m more than aware of what you’ve faced because of your sexual preference. I know you’ve been shunned and ridiculed. You, above all others, should be sensitive to the scrutiny Dampier faces daily. ‘Lover’s spat’ coming from you takes on a whole new meaning.”

He raised a hand to stop Thea from responding. He wasn’t done. She had to be made aware of the slippery slope she was climbing. “Do you for a moment think it’s easy being your partner? Everyone’s aware she’s sleeping with her ex, but could it be Ariel ‘swings both ways?’ some might be asking. Could the rumors about her ex be a ruse to cover up an affair with you? You think others don’t talk? Don’t spread rumors? Don’t have an ax to grind with her? You may not see the looks she gets, but I do. And so does Ariel. Don’t take what she’s accepted for granted.”

“I don’t,” Thea said. How can so much pain lead to so much Growth? Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit http://ThePhillyGrind.net.

[thephillygrind-blog]

9 - Chapter 2, Intro to Morales

Estefan Morales was yawning when there was a knock on the wafer-thin door of his so-called office. He stifled the yawn and told Ariel and Thea to take a seat. With only one chair in the office Thea, closest to the door, went for another. That he had an office might be considered by most a perk. That it wasn’t much larger than a broom closet made Morales claustrophobic at times. As a result, he spent most of his time in the squad room itself. Those who didn’t know him would think he was hovering over his detectives. He wasn’t, and they knew it. He just couldn’t take being confined.

Waiting for Ariel and Thea to return from the crime scene, he had considered the sorry state of his career. A highly decorated Latino officer, his promotion to sergeant of the elite homicide unit four years before was thought of as just a harbinger of things to come. He had never wanted the job, but with seven children he’d needed the extra income to keep his family in food and diapers. Given his druthers, he would be out on the street where the action was. Oddly, he found he was as good an administrator as he had been a detective, and oversaw a loyal squad who appreciated his hands-off approach. He asked only that his detectives keep him informed and use him as a sounding board when stymied.

In the last two years, though, his career had stalled—some might say derailed. He had reluctantly taken the lieutenant’s exam twice and inexplicably been passed over each time. Aside from his impeccable credentials, politics seemed to assure a Hispanic would get the promotion. That he didn’t only make those in his squad redouble their efforts. He knew they felt they had somehow failed him. Another casualty of his falling star were the detectives now assigned to him. Where once he had been given the best and brightest he was now routinely assigned detectives others shunned.Oddly, it had worked favorably. He had taken Ariel Dampier as a favor to a fellow sergeant. She wasn’t a team player, he’d been told, but a rabble-rouser following her own agenda.

Never one to cuddle up to the brass, he had gladly accepted the rogue detective knowing full well that Sergeant McGowan’s concept of a team player was one who helped his advancement. McGowan demanded conformity, Morales cared only about results. He earned the loyalty of his squad without destroying their individuality. Dampier, he had quickly learned, was no renegade. She was as good as any detective in his squad.

And now, with one of his detectives retiring on disability, he had been handed Thea Hughes, promoted to homicide as a result of pressure from the politically well-connected gay community. Hughes was still a puzzle to Morales. Though raw and inexperienced, he sensed a sharp mind and someone eager to learn. He thought Dampier would be the perfect partner for her. It was no secret Ariel was living with her ex-husband, so there would be no rumors of Hughes hitting on her partner, or worse, the two of them engaging in an affair. And if a portion of Ariel’s expertise and experience rubbed off on Thea, he would soon have another stellar detective no one else desired.

How can so much pain lead to so much Growth?

Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit http://ThePhillyGrind.net.

[thephillygrind-blog]

8 - Ariel’s versus Thea’s Approach

In the car Ariel was going to turn the ignition when Thea stopped her.

“We gotta talk,” Thea said.

“Morales wants to see us,” Ariel said.

“We talk … then we see Morales.”

“This about your friend back there?” Ariel said, sounding impatient.

“This is about my tiptoeing around you, being Tonto to your Lone Ranger. To my deferring to you from day one and your disrespecting me. It’s not about Hamilton back there, but he’s part of it. You wanted to look at the body and had me interview Hamilton. Then you step in and want to tell him what to do. I spoke with him. We established a rapport. You were about to treat him like you treat me—a novice who has to be led by the nose. I deserve better than that. So did he.”

“Look Thea,” Ariel said, her eyes locking onto Thea’s. “You’ve spent the last five weeks following me around, waiting for me to tell you what to do. You haven’t exactly inspired confidence.”

“I was learning the ropes from you. You’ve got the experience in homicide. I learned the basics weeks ago. You’re still keeping me on a short leash.”

“That’s because you’ve shown no initiative. You asked, by your actions, to be led. Am I supposed to read your mind?”

“You might ask,” Thea shot back.

“Not my way,” Ariel said and started the car

.Thea reached over and turned the ignition off.

“With you or without you I can catch the bastard who killed that girl. He’ll kill again and again while you plod along,” Thea said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ariel asked.

“We have different ways of working a case. To you it’s a puzzle. You fit in the pieces and look for answers to emerge. Nothing wrong with that. You’ll just need a hell of a lot of bodies your way, each another piece of the puzzle.”

How can so much pain lead to so much Growth? 

Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit http://ThePhillyGrind.net.

[thephillygrind-blog]

7 - The Butterfly Tattoo

In the cases she and Ariel had worked before, the body itself held little relevance. This time it was different. If the body didn’t hold the key, it offered clues and Thea had no intention of getting her information second-hand from Ariel. “Notice the nail …” Silver said then stopped when Thea crouched down next to the body. “Mind starting over?” Thea asked, her eyes darting from Silver to Ariel. If Ariel was upset she didn’t show it, and when Silver looked at Ariel, she merely shrugged.

“Okay children,” Silver, the Medical Examiner started, as if lecturing a class of ten-year-olds.  “We have here a female Caucasian, approximately fifteen to eighteen years of age. Note the tattoos, Detective,” he said looking at Thea, and with a penlight pointed out five. “Butterflies with broken wings on each ankle, a broken chain on one wrist, a unicorn on the same arm, a broken heart on the other arm. There’s another on the back of her neck. I was telling your partner they’re all relatively new, the oldest no more than eighteen months old. My guess is she’s a runaway,” he said and paused. “Actually, I believe she was restrained when she was killed.” Again using the penlight, he highlighted the girl’s wrists and ankles. “She was tied. Forensics can be more specific, but it wasn’t rope. I’d say with strips of a sheet or some other such material. She struggled to get free and they left welts. As to the cause of death, for a definitive answer you’ll have to wait for the autopsy, but I believe she bled to death.” “I don’t see any wounds,” Thea said. “Lots of blood on her body …” “Ye of little faith,” he said, and shined his penlight on the girl’s neck. Thea saw what looked like a scratch. “He slit her jugular,” Silver said, looking at Thea. “Contrary to what you see in the movies, blood spurts from the neck when you cut the carotid artery,” he said, pointing with his penlight. “If you slice the jugular deep enough, you will get heavy bleeding, but no stream of blood. In this case our killer with a knife or scalpel made a tiny incision in the jugular. Restrained, the young lady bled to death, very slowly.” “Was she in pain?” Thea asked. “Not from the wound. She would feel lethargic, and at some point would cease struggling. Too much of an effort.” He lifted one of her hands with his gloved hand. “She would feel pain, though, when he ripped off her nail. That’s what I was telling your partner when you so rudely interrupted,” he said with a wink. “Did he rip it off post-mortem?” Ariel now asked. “From the amount of blood on the skin I’d say she was alive at the time.” “A totem. A trophy,” Thea said, thinking out loud. “That’s for you to determine,” Silver said. How can so much pain lead to so much Growth? Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit http://ThePhillyGrind.net

[thephillygrind-blog]

6 - The homicide scene

Though in her mid-twenties, Thea was acutely aware she looked far younger. She wore her detective’s shield on a chain around her neck so she wouldn’t be mistaken for a high school student. Her curly, thick auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a rubber band, loose strands making their way down the sides, framing an attractive, earthy face. She’d been told her emerald eyes were radiant and her seldom-seen smile dazzling. She didn’t have Ariel’s high

cheekbones, and her partner’s lips were full while hers were thin. Next to Ariel, who was in her mid-thirties, she knew she appeared younger than she was.

“I’ll check out the body,” Ariel said. “You speak with the first on the scene,” she added, and made her way over to the Medical Examiner. Gee, thanks for asking, Thea wanted to say, but just shook her head and went searching for her quarry. There was something different about Ariel’s demeanor tonight, though, Thea had noticed.

“Detective Hughes, homicide,” she said, holding out the shield that hung from her neck so he would know she wasn’t jerking his chain. Even if she hadn’t looked younger than her age, she was still young for a homicide detective. “Thea Hughes,” she added, trying to put the young officer at ease. Like Ariel, he towered over her, another six-footer, with the build of a linebacker.

“Hamilton,” he responded looking flustered. “Richard Hamilton.”

“How did you come upon the body?” Thea asked.

“Didn’t. We got a call, an anonymous tip.”

Thea looked up the steep incline that led to the road. No way the victim could have been dumped from a car and landed where she had. “Was she killed here?” Thea now asked. The call she and Ariel had received had only mentioned the body of a female had been found in the woods along Lincoln Drive.

“He shrugged. “She’s covered in blood, but there’s none on the ground. No stab wounds on her torso. No exit or entry wound from a bullet. No mutilation. And being naked … my guess is she was killed someplace else and brought here.”

“Why would he do that?” she asked. She now knew Hamilton was competent. She wanted to see if he had the insight so lacking in most cops. She hadn’t seen the body, but already had a theory.

Hamilton could confirm it. Him or the ME.

“He didn’t want her mutilated,” Hamilton said tentatively, and when Thea didn’t interrupt went on, seeming to gain confidence as he spoke.

“It’s like he killed her, but … I don’t know … respected her,” he said with a shrug.

“Thanks,” she said and made for the body. She had won him over, a fellow cop, not a female cop to be protected by the males of the pride.

How can so much pain lead to so much Growth?

Discover the grit and grind of personal growth, in a world where everything is against you! Find Out Now. Visit http://ThePhillyGrind.net.

[ninadobrevdaily]

Talking about Flatliners: She [Julia Roberts] was the only female representing all the ladies. But the industry has changed and there’s woman empowerment and we’ve got more ladies. I really enjoyed it because I got to play a professional - a resident that will soon become a doctor - and be overachiever and sort of know-it-all and have a hand in everything. And I got to die most times. In true form I guess [for me], because I had the most experience when it comes dying thanks to my previous job.

[relativizar-se]