Work Text:
It was a hot, clammy summer night in Miami. My cheap polyester shirt stuck to my back as I hunched low over the crime scene, taking photo after photo of the chaotic scene before me, trying to make sense of it all. I tried not to sweat on anything important-looking.
I felt someone approach from behind me, then Horatio Caine himself was there, suddenly knelt beside me. My boss. He smelled of sweat and failed antiperspirant.
"What do we have?", he asked with his usual velvety voice.
I pointed at the evidence with a used biro from my pocket: "Look here. Baby shoes. Never worn"
The chief investigator stood up slowly, and I followed suit. Thoughtfully looking down at the crime scene, he took out a pair of sunglasses from his inside pocket, starting to unfold them despite the darkness.
"Hm. Looks like these soles..." He placed the sunglasses on, staring intently into the distance "...were being saved for something." God DAMN he was good.