The crime scene was already crawling with uniformed officers, photographers snapping shots of the body, and forensic techs dusting for prints when Blake arrived. The smell of rain-soaked asphalt mingled with the faint scent of blood in the cool evening air, and the low murmur of voices filled the scene as she ducked under the yellow crime scene tape.

Her eyes swept over the chaotic scene, quickly taking in the details—the victim’s body slumped against the alley wall, a pool of dark crimson staining the pavement, and the familiar flicker of the crime scene lights casting eerie shadows. She took a breath, the rush of the job already settling in her veins.

Her footsteps slowed as she approached, watching him for a second before deciding to make her presence known. She stepped up beside him, folding her arms, and raised an eyebrow. Without even glancing his way, she spoke, her voice smooth but laced with just the right amount of sarcasm.

“Well, look at that. The department really must be scraping the bottom of the barrel if they called you in for this one,”

she said, glancing over at him with a sly smirk.