<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;"><em>Jacqueline Meredith Blakesley</em></span> <br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><em>Homicide Inspector at Crime Scene</em></span></span></div><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://tinyurl.com/867s24h)</div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Jacqueline rarely smiled, but when she did, it had often been called breathtaking ... in a positive way, of course.  Which was precisely what the Inspector did at Officer Schmitt's question.  Taking three steps forward, she turned so that she could actually look the man in the eyes - at which moment Jack spotted Officer Crawford a distance off, and the bit of paper that had blown against his shoe.  She couldn't make out what it was, but considering that it was in the alley, she hoped he'd get on some gloves and bag it before it blew away.<br/><br/><em>"I am fairly well acquainted with fire, and its aftermath, firstly.  Second, there is no spattering that implies that the victims' ... heart was still beating when ... this occurred."</em>  <br/><br/>Her words had broken off when she stepped closer, brows furrowing as she tugged out a pair of synthetic gloves and put them on.  The case that had gotten her Inspector rank had been an arson case with a suspect responsible for deaths all over the country.  She'd been the lead in that investigation - one that had been thankfully entirely mortal means and ways.  Jack scoffed to herself.  Humans were honestly more cruel to each other at times that demons ever could manage.  Sometimes good witches were so damned naive.  Getting close and squatting, she peered intently at the body of the kid, looking for further clues - and one in particular that she'd not shared in her reports.  Her fingers moved near the nape of the neck, and of course ... there it was.  That damned omega mark.<br/><br/>Her headache just intensified, seeing the shocked, open eyes of the dead kid that she couldn't close as that was tampering with evidence.  Turning, she peered at the walls, and the scorch marks upon them.  <br/><br/><em>"Targeting street walkers makes the crime supposedly less of import, which is ... telling in its manner." </em> <br/><br/>It confirmed more and more that these killings were the work of a demon - or someone with magic.  The residual hint in the air was very faint - yet there was no way for her to be sure whether it was from the killer, or the kid.  She had two options as she saw it.  Find another witch, to deal with this - or go to her father.  <br/><br/><em>"You'll want to take samples of these scorch marks on the walls if that hasn't been done already."</em> <br/><br/>Jack had spoken sharply to one of the techs, whom nodded and got to work.  Striding back to Schmitt, Jack tilted her head to the left and counted to ten in her head as she addressed the quiet man.  <br/><br/><em>"Can you tell me who called this in and who was first on scene?"</em><br/><br/>Tension had set into her shoulders, making patience that much harder to come by.  Her thin fingers pressed hard to her temples as she waited for a reply.  She really just felt like punching someone really hard.  Talking to her father was always so damned complicated.  She hated dealing with demons, even if they claimed to be reformed.  It told her one thing.  She needed to take a trip to Chinatown to speak to Sam Huang, an acupuncturist and dealer in Chinese herbs - among other things being her mother's uncle.  Meditation wasn't working this time, and her body seemed to burn through even hospital grade pain killers.  The last thing she needed now was a bounty hunter sensing her growing power, thinking they were again going to cart her off for their own uses.<br/><br/>Jack prided herself on using magic strictly for magical issues - and until she knew more here, she had to keep that part of her life separate from her job - as had been her rule, always.  Mortal methods for mortals.</span>