Riggs & Murtaugh. Starsky & Hutch. Brody James & Bullock.
“He smoked that pretty good,” Bullock said as he looked down the ravine at where the car landed. “Autopsy said he didn’t have a heart attack or anything, so the impact must have killed him. Hell of a way to go.”
“Every way is a hell of a way to go,” I said as I knelt closer to the road looking in both directions.
My name is Brody James. After 15 years I’ve returned to the hometown I swore I’d never return to.
This is my first case since coming back, and one thing I’m sure of is that Gary Hutchins didn’t kill himself.
My partner Bullock isn’t so sure. He’s young, he’s passionate, can be annoying as hell sometimes, but he’s a good cop. I like him.
With Gary’s death one month after Rebekah Wertheimer overdosed, I know there’s a connection.
Bullock thinks I might be too personally involved in the case since I went to school with both victims. To be honest, I didn’t really like either of them or their friend Joseph Agam.
I’m willing to bet he’s in danger too. Bullock is willing to bet that I’m trying to solve these cases to impress Chloe Brown, who smells of lilacs and roast beef.
I have to remember that Bullock is young, he’s passionate, can be annoying as hell, and sometimes, I just want to punch him in the face.
