Detective Daniels gave a sigh as he rubbed his temples and gave a huff to try and relax himself, with no success. This case was stressful. Multiple suicides in a short time of only a few days and they found nothing that connected each of them to each other. Scotland Yard was in a pickle, and he hated to admit it but he had to start thinking about someone who he didn't particularly agree with. Or like for that matter. Daniels took out his phone and dialed a number, he put it to his ear and waited, but nobody answered. "Son of a..." He said under his breathe as he gripped his phone tightly, trying hard not to throw it. His train of thought was interrupted by a sound of high heels clicking on the ground. It was Detective Anderson, his partner. He looked at her and gave a sigh and she shook her head. "I know what you're thinking... And don't do it.... We don't need her. We can figure this out ourselves." Anderson said with a strict tone to her voice. She didn't like the woman that always butt in to their crime scenes, at all.<br/><br/>Daniel ignored her and picked up his phone when it rang and checked the text that had just come in. It read:<br/><br/>"I assume you need help? If course you do... -SH".<br/><br/>Sent from my LG-H900 using Tapatalk