"Call me when you've got a dead body," I said, and hung up the phone. I'd finally managed a few hours of shuteye, and wasn't going to function until I had a few more. On the bright side, the asshole who'd murdered two people was now behind bars. Cursing the idiot in Dispatch who'd punched my phone number instead of someone on the Missing Persons Squad, I went back to sleep.

The next time the phone rang, I debated throwing it across the room. Instead, I pulled a pillow over my head. Homicide detectives might be on call twenty-four seven, but that didn't mean the entire squad was. Let them call someone else. I was too groggy to realize it was my land line, not my cell ringing until my ex-wife's voice burrowed through the layers of fog and memory foam.