Detective Mark Jessup sighed as he stared down at the corpse of Richard Trammell. Trammell's body was on top of several overflowing Hefty bags full of trash. Adiscarded pizza box was under his right foot. Mark flapped his hand away at some flies before taking a step forward, hearing glass crunch under his step.
"Are there any broken windows around here?" Mark asked.
His partner Bree shook her head, scrunching her nose at the smell of garbage that surrounded them. "None that I can see, why?"
Mark leaned over the victim and pointed at Richard Trammell's jacket. "He's got bits of glass on his lapel and the cuts on his face look like he was shoved into some kind of window. There aren't any big pieces so I'm guessing it was tempered glass."
"What? Are you thinking he was in a car accident?" Bree asked. "That sounds like a good theory except you're missing one important clue."
Her sarcasm wasn't lost on him and Mark stood up. "And that clue would be?"
Bree waved her arms around the alleyway. "There's no car!"
Mark smirked. "Come on now, Wade. You gotta think outside the box."
"Just say whatever it is you're thinking," Bree said.
"I'm thinking maybe this victim is part of something bigger. His family was at St. Anthony's."
"And?"
"Maybe he knew something," Mark said. "Something that would put him in danger."
"You sound incredibly cryptic right now."
"Think about it...we have a victim that looks like he was in a car accident. Who do we know that's been in a car accident lately?"
"Jessup, you're turning into an obsessed man." Bree groaned.
"No, I've always been obsessed when it comes to finding out the truth."
"The captain doesn't want you anywhere near the Dovers. Or did you forget that?"
"No, he said he didn't want me to do anything with the St. Anthony's case."
"Because it's closed," Bree reminded him.
Mark grunted. "The rich get away with anything. Even murder."
"Is that a chip on your shoulder I'm seeing?" Bree asked, pointing to his right shoulder.
"Very funny," Mark muttered. "I'm being serious. Rich or poor...there should never be a time when someone gets away with murder. Never."
Bree grimaced. "You're really going to go after the Dovers for Trammell's death? You don't even know the facts of that case or whether or not Calista Dover was driving."
"So?"
"So, I think there's more going on here than you're telling me. What gives?"
Mark ran a hand through his blonde hair before cursing. "It's a long story but it has to do with my parents."
Bree waited for him to continue. When he didn't she sighed. "And?"
"Let's just say I learned at a very young age that money was wicked and the wealthy were devious. I might not be standing here today if it hadn't been for money."
Bree frowned. "Like you'd be dead?"
"No, like I'd probably have gone down a different path. You said I have a chip on my shoulder? You're wrong. It's more like a damn mountain."
"What happened to your parents? Now that I think about it, you never mention them."
Mark scoffed. "Why would I mention the dead?"
"Okay, fine. You don't like rich people. That still doesn't explain why you don't like the Dovers. Being rich doesn't automatically make them guilty for whatever crime you come across," Bree said.
"These isn't just any wealthy family," Mark said. "The Dovers destroyed my family."
Bree flinched at the anger in his voice.
"And you know what they say about the apple not falling far from the tree. As far as I'm concerned, the Dovers will eventually pay for what they did to my family. Even if it costs me my life."