Sabato, 17 Luglio, 2004 | Posted by Detective Stevens at 13:46

I first heard about the incident while lying in bed. I often have the police radio just going. It doesn't help me sleep, I don't sleep too well. It's cold in bed, even with the electric blanket. It's been cold ever since she left me.

She was a dancer. Amazing. You would watch her dance and you could see the music. There was the blare of the trumpet as she stamped her feet. She'd swoon across your chest and it felt like the cool caress of a Wynton Marsalis's trumpet. Her lips were soft like the a Miles Davis Collection. And whenever, we were together, my heart just beat like a drum.

Hey, well that was then. I don't talk about it anymore. Can't even mention her name. But I still see her music. I often see her in the dark. I saw her that evening as I was listening to the police radio. I saw her shadow slowly slide across the wall. I wanted to welcome her, to talk with her.

But I was distracted by a name on the radio. A name that had stolen her and taken her away. I never knew who she was looking for. In the end I just knew it wasn't me.

The name I heard mention was Jesus Miguel Luis Rodriguez.

I don't normally go out on nights like this as if it were sport. I just knew that something had happened that I had to go see. It was like I could see a car crash up ahead and I had to veer closer to take a look, to see if there were any survivors.