by Maria Walton
When she went to bed she dreamt of the cell with its cold steel bars and Richardson was there. He was nothing but a shadow. She had a key and let herself out of the cell. She walked out into the world. The sun was bright and warmed her skin. She woke up.
The next day there was no news. A car catching on fire was no cause for concern, not on the outskirts of town. Katie knew she’d covered her tracks well enough. Tony would have been proud. A good detective is also a good criminal. You just have to know how to wait for justice, she thought, or some semblance of justice.
Katie put her feet up on her desk. Another day. Another body. She heard her phone vibrate. She pulled it up. It was Vi.
“Do you want to go out sometime,” the text read.
She smiled. Warmth like a campfire filled her making her cheeks blush.
“Sure,” she replied.