<em>Promotions within the department...</em><br/><br/>Nobody had told her, she was busy fuming in her office, shuffling through pictures of corpses left from each Preston murder, bodies sliced by piano wire, others strangulated by cassette tape film, each of them being imagined to have Eric's head attached to -- or sometimes beside the body. Anger was not a productive thing when it came to detective work; she'd agonized over the patterns, looking for the tie that would bind them all together. One girl found at the original site, Preston High School, stuffed into the air duct and lashed with piano wire, eventually strangulated, her throat cut by the thin, durable line. She'd been reported missing for two weeks before the school year started when the janitor found her. An awful stench was permeating the school -- when he opened up the hatch to the ventilation system, her body dropped out, suspended by a noose, each limb severed but reattached by more wire. She looked like a real-life, twisted marionette.<br/><br/><em>Wonder if that means I'm up for it. Should probably ask around, see what the deal is. Love my boys, but the awful glass ceiling of feminism is telling me I'm getting jewed out of some serious cash doing what I do.</em><br/><br/>"We need a statement from you, Detective."<br/><br/>"A statement--" Her mind had wandered, and now everyone was waiting for her, asking questions, cameras flashing. She blinked, disoriented, and glanced towards Gonzales, who was, unsurprisingly, of very little help to her.<br/><br/>"About the murder? You think this is related to the recent string of Preston murders?"<br/><br/>She opened her mouth to speak, but then snapped it shut again. She felt overwhelmed all the sudden, taking a step back from the recorders shoved in her face.<em>Time to put on your game face. If I'm gonna be moving up, time to take some fuckin' initiative.</em><br/><br/>"The murder does not seem to be related," she stated stiffly, but suddenly lost her confidence completely. If there was one area of police work she was unprepared for, it was public speaking. The captain often made the diplomatic appearances with Marion close behind as if to say<em>See? We've got our best hunting dogs sniffing 'em out.</em>She had become a poster child for the police actually doing something, and for the most part, she believed they were, even if Eric was so apt to say otherwise. She loved her job and gave it her all.<br/><br/>"I...I don't think we...This is not related, so we will not be...we will not be pursuing this...No, I mean, we will pursue it, but...the citizens of New York City need not feel fear. It seems like...a standard case...No serial killer involvement. Rest easy."<br/><br/>She pulled away from the microphone, her face already crimson when she heard a voice to her side shout, "Detective -- and the mark on your face?"<br/><br/>Her spine stiffened and for a moment, she wanted to turn and punch the innocently inquisitive man in the face, but replied coldly, "...It's nothing."