Lonnie was still at her desk when Bud walked into the office. He passed by without a word and she didn't notice. She was manually going through missing persons reports to find anything to match the young Jane Doe's description.

Cases like this make a cop detach as best they can. Lonnie was doing that, but questions still seeped in. Understanding why a criminal did what he or she did is the first step beyond the physical evidence in solving a crime.

How could anyone do this to another human being, let alone a child? What would drive a man to do such a thing to a girl? What need would he have to dominate her? Most rapes are not a case of one subject seeking pleasure. It's primal, domination. Some say it's an animalistic need to for a male to spread his genes to the wind. Rape, they say, is either a direct reproductive strategy...what men resort to when all else fails or the byproduct of other reproductive strategies, such as a strong male sex drive and the male desire to mate with a variety of females. The rare case of a female attacking a male is still scientifically unexplainable.

Remember the line from a Clockwork Orange...we believe you are genetically programmed to rape, oh and by the way we're not going to let you do it. It's part of the reason why we need cops. The murder is another issue. It belies the need to propagate because the actor has ended the victim's ability to bear fruit. The science of crime is like standing in a round house and choosing a direction, all the while hoping you're on the right track.

He glanced at her from across the room. Bud was holding a copy of the case file in his hands and he wondered how she was dealing with it. Woman didn't have any place being exposed to this shit by his reckoning.

Closing the folder he walked up to the front of her desk. She didn't raise her eyes until he asked, "You okay?"

Lonnie sat back in her chair and forced a little smile. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a little tired. My day's not over yet. We still haven't heard from the ME's office."

"You find anything else out?"

"No. I'd guess this victim is undocumented. I'm wondering if this is all tied in with the trafficking case."

"Any leads on that one?"

"Not yet, but Coffee and I are going to talk to an informant, an insider, later," she grinned. "I get to play bad cop on this one."

Bud recoiled at the thought. Insider meant the informant was a perp and the tactics used to get info from them were not always pleasant. Most of his experience with informants was less than savory. He couldn't picture her beating with a blackjack. It brought a flood of bile up into his throat.

"Lemme take your place."

She looked up into his eyes and shook her head. "I can do my job. Coffee and I are the lead investigative team on this case."

"We'll see about that..." He shoved the folder under his arm and turned to walk away. Lonnie stood and rounded her desk. She grabbed onto his elbow to stop him.

"I'm not going to get into a pissing match with you over this. RSD was called in on it and it's your job to support us."

He turned to glare at her. "Are you going to tell me how to do my job? This is a homicide."

"It's a rape homicide involving a juvi and all things point to it being linked to our trafficking case."

"You got no proof of that."

"Yet!" she barked. "But I'll find it. You mark my words!"

"Morgan!" Coffee's voice interrupted them. "Quit sucking face and get a move on. The ME is ready to do the autopsy." Bud jerked his arm away from her. It was more directed at Coffee though.

She knew better than to try to give Bud an affectionate 'see you later,' but she reached for his arm again and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We don't take any of this home. Remember that. I'll see you late. Love you."

"Isn't that sweet," Coffee chided. "I bet you lay his shorts out for him and pack him a nice little lunch. I'm touched."

She could feel the tension wave off of Bud as she strode up to her partner, and she wasn't even looking his way. "You'll be more than touched if you keep that shit up, Coffee."

"Is that a threat?"

"Take it however you wish."

w

The ME's office always seems to be in a basement somewhere. Whether it's some kind of prejudice toward the folks who choose this career or a way to relate it to a mad scientist's lair, no one knows. The walls of the LA county office are white-washed and unadorned. Their sanitary appearance is enhanced by all of the stainless steel objects, tables, coolers and accoutrements for starters. Its clinical clean appearance does nothing to thwart the smell of death. It's nearly visible until you paint your upper lip with cherry Vicks.

Lonnie drew a line from each nostril to the other and she closed her eyes against the burn. It drew a sneeze from her and she had to reapply. Coffee seemed to find this amusing.

"You'll get used to it, just like everything else."

"Believe me, partner. I don't want to get used to it. I haven't as of yet, but I deal with it. The day I start getting used to things like that..." she nudged her head toward the sheet clad body on the table, "...is the day I pack it in."

"We're ready to start." The ME's assistant shushed them. She moved the tray of instruments over toward the table and pulled the sheet back. Rigor had long passed in the young shell left behind and the now softened corpse lay in waiting. Lonnie cringed at the sound of the saw but she kept her eyes trained on the work in progress. The brain was removed and weighted. An incision was made in a Y shape from the chest down below the abdomen and flesh was peeled back. The ME removed all of the organs at once and she began to dissect them right on the table. Tiny samples were clipped and placed in tubes or on slides for analysis. The entire process was choreographed and documented, just like hundreds of others were before.

The sound of running water, sawing bones and tearing globs of flesh seemed decibels louder than the examiners voice as she recorded her findings. Finally, she stopped to talk to the observers.

"This subject has not been in this country for long," the ME announced. "Visually I can tell by her bone color and development, but I'm sure the tissue analysis will confirm that her diet was far different than any we'd find in the US. If I had to hypothesize, I'd say Cambodia or nearby."

Coffee wiped his nose. The color of his complexion told on him. He wasn't at all used to this, but he put on a good act.

"What are you thinking, Lon?"

She uncrossed her arms and stood straight from the table she was leaning against. "I think we have a new lead. If the doc can confirm this girl was from Cambodia, then that's where we have to start. You said the last shipment of kids came in from Asia, but you weren't specific. We should look into that then maybe we should start checking on some of these nitwits who advertise Asian brides. It's a shot in the dark, but better than nothing."

"Good idea. Doc, how long before we get the toxicology and analysis back?"

"Couple of days. Some could take longer, but most of them...just a couple of days."

"Alright. Let's call it a day, Lonnie. At this rate, your old man will be home before you will."

"When are you going to lay off me about that?"

"Never. Deal with it. Come in at nine tomorrow. I'll have the interrogation set up by then."

"I thought we were going to tackle that today?"

"Today will be tomorrow in exactly forty minutes. Go home. You're no good tired and neither am I."

w

It was after one AM when she stumbled through the door. Bud would be on shift until seven so she had a few hours to sleep ...alone, or so she thought. He was in the door a few minutes behind her on a dinner break. She'd just managed to wiggle out of her clothes when he filled the bedroom door.

"Hey. I didn't expect to see you. Where's your partner?"

Bud braced his arm up against the door jam. "Diner. Thought I'd come home instead."

"I'm happy to see you." She knelt on the bed and looked his way as she undid her bra. "How much time you got left?"

"Enough," he replied as he rolled up his sleeves and moved toward her. Bending to kiss her, he stopped short. Bud reached to seize her under her arms and he lifted her to her feet. He unlaced his tie as he backed her against the wall.

"I don't think I like this much. What are you trying to prove, Bud?" There was a modicum of fear in her voice and he heard it loud and clear. What was he doing there? Why did he have to have her this way right now? Fuck knows, but he pinned her against the wall with his forearm.

"No!" she spat as she brought her knee up defensively. He doubled up but recovered at once. She ducked him and spun around to grab her shirt to cover herself. "Please tell me what's gotten into you. Don't you understand you don't have to take what I'll give?"

He looked confused, troubled. Had something in him snapped? Not again, this can't happen again. Bud shook his head. He had something to say but it wouldn't come out. He knew this wasn't the right way to control her. He knew it but it happened none the less.

"Give?" he spat back. "Give up the case...give up the job..."

Then he left.