"No, not for over two years."
"Any encounters within this period?"
The soothing hum of an air conditioner drifts through the office.
"...yeah." follows a moment's hesitation in the girl's response.
"If you care to say so, roughly, how recently was this?"
A rustling of paperwork fills the moment's silence as the young woman averts her gaze.
The Gash was the worst beat in town, and being the cop working it meant that you had three options: get promoted and get reassigned, leave the force, or wait to die. Cops had a shorter lifespan in The Gash than a white-girl's virginity did in a rap concert. I had worked this beat once, before I took done a cop-killing drug-dealing Puerto Rican slut named La Zorra and made vice. There was no need for me to come back to this shitty-ass place, but I wanted to. The Gash was my connection to someone I cared about. Someone who needed my help.