<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 22px"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">Carmen Castillo</span></span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 255, 255)"><span style="font-size: 12px">Angston Residence - Mid Morning<br/>
Mood - Cranky<br/>
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</span></span>​</div><br/>Behind him, the sound of a pistol being cocked richoched through the house. "And what, pray tell, was it that you've found, mister?" Carmen's sultry voice came from behind him and she stood there, pistol drawn and pointing directly at his heart, with a dark frown on her face. She knew she looked terrible, in her uniform with her hair thrown in a messy bun and the dark circles under her eyes, from lack of sleep. She could still hear Angston's voice in her head, from the voicemail, but her dark eyes were centered on Gyran, her head cocked to the side in curiosity. She motioned with her pistol for him to sit at the kitchen table. "Sit, let's talk about this breaking and entering issue you seem to have, as well as why the fuck you're in my partner's house, yes?" She smirked. She never lowered the gun and she wouldn't, until she determined him to be of no threat. A short, high pitched whistle came from her lips and a few moments later, Smith came to a halt at her side. He did not growl, did not bark, but his eyes were trained on Gyran, just like Carmen's, as if her and the dog were one. She gave Gyran a smirk and she tilted her head to the side. "Well, then, out with it."<br/><br/>---------------------------------------------------<br/>Earlier that day...<br/><br/>It had been two days since Angston's suicide and Carmen, though a bit reluctant, had been promoted to acting Homicide Detective. Of course, the precinct had ruled Angston's death a suicide, but Carmen knew deep in her heart that wasn't the case and out of respect and love for her partner, she was going to figure it out, so that he could rest peacefully. She'd gotten up that morning, dressed in her police uniform, even though she was Detective now. Some habits didn't die easily, especially when you'd been on the force as long as her. When she'd arrived to work, going straight to the Chief's office, Robert Lowery. "You wanted to see me, Chief?" she asked, taking a seat in front of his dull wooden desk. The plump, balding man sat in front of her, hands clasped together and resting on his belly. "Carmen, you know you don't have to wear that. You're not technically an officer anymore, doll, you're a detective now. Wear whatever you want." He said with a shrug and a kind smile, one that Carmen barely returned. He sighed, glancing at the open door, before he turned his eyes back to her. Resting his forearms on his desk, he leaned forward and spoke with a softer tone. "Carmen, you look like Hell. You need rest." He said softly and Carmen offered another dead, small smile. "I will, Chief, when I figure out what happened to my friend." Chief Lowery sighed and reclined back in his seat once more, rubbing his temple, signifying his oncoming headache. "Carmen, there was no evidence of forced entry, no prints, no left behind residue, nothing. There was even gun powder residue on his hand." Even before he'd stopped talking, Carmen was shaking her head and standing. "You might not believe in me, but I do." With that, she'd stormed out of his office to go patrol. How she'd ended up at Angston's, she didn't quite remember, but that's when Smith had started growling, trying his best to get out of the car. That's when she'd known someone was in the house.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=https%3A%2F%2F66.media.tumblr.com%2Ff74d575a94dda33717c229d35c521b7b%2Ftumblr_oyhd0v7pIm1qk3gm2o1_400.gifv&amp;hash=d99765f2af807b1ffc08928e72302e29" title="tumblr_oyhd0v7pIm1qk3gm2o1_400.gifv">
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