He just needed a breather to collect his thoughts. Five minutes. Maybe even just four. Just something so his mind could unravel and be shaken out like a dirty rug.

It got easier in some ways. The same type of crime, the same type of victim, the same type of criminal. Elementary puzzle pieces that fit together, and all he needed to worry about were fine details, detached.

But sometimes it still struck deep.

He holed himself up in his car and turned on the air conditioning, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling.