The Job changes, all the time. I never know what's coming from one day to the next. The extraordinary is just a man under a blanket; the ordinary hides under a black cloak of lies.
Cases end up on my desk all the time, and the only constant is that nothing is what it seems.
It's almost refreshing to see a job and know what the final word will be. It's a rare thing, but sometimes inevitability decides to take a walk in your shoes. Sometimes fate leaves a calling card.
I pick up a paper file headed "JC". My gut tightens, icy claws grip my heart and my lungs fill with burning oil. And, for an everlasting second, I see the future.
This one is going to leave a scar.