I started the Death and the Detective series from the writing prompts challenges at Creative Copy Challenge. The words in bold are the writing prompts from the challenge.
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Challenge #39
Terror had been a part of his dreams for so long that skipping sleep was no problem. In dreams, killers never died and victims died over and over.
While he thought he was a little closer to hiding his life, Brett’s body betrayed him with the lines of sleepless nights. His casual style and dry humor was a mask he slipped on easily.
It helped him float by department shrinks, whenever protocol demanded a visit. He knew just how to respond to get a quick release back to the streets. But, that was before the precinct hired the lady shrink. Package that brain of hers with a whole lot of curves, and legs that went on forever, and Brett knew it spelled a whole lot of trouble.
In his line of work, Brett understood trouble, but he had no doubt, Dr. Margaret Mary Sweeney was going to be his biggest challenge yet.
Challenge #41
“So when are you giving me the green light, Doc?
Detective Brett Connors directed those ridiculously blue eyes at Maggie, the newly appointed psychologist for the North County police district.
“If I didn’t know better, Detective, I’d think you didn’t like talking to me.”
“Hey, I’ll talk all you’d like over drinks tonight – after I’m cleared to get back on the streets.”
“Is that what it takes – a couple of drinks? Or is it something else? Do you know?”
Brett slammed the chair down he had been leaning back on.
“Don’t push me, Doc, you wouldn’t like the result.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Pushing?”
“And stop that bullshit shrink-speak. Next, you’ll be asking me, ‘how does that make you feel?’”
Brett silently fumed at his loss of control. Brett’s quest for control was a life-long challenge. If not for his grandmother, he had no doubt he’d be in prison or dead.
Like most cops, Brett hated the department shrinks always looking for something more, with their phony platitudes and perfect diction. But, then most of the previous shrinks were pasty placards, easily dismissed.
The same couldn’t be said about Dr. Margaret Mary Sweeney. If he knew the lady shrink would visit his dreams, Brett might actually take up sleeping again. He’d do well to remember the devil wore many disguises – even if it had killer legs. It was really too bad this whole scene was such a waste of what he knew could be something explosive.
Challenge #43
Maggie Sweeney wanted a challenge when she signed on as San Diego’s North County Police psychologist, and she found one. The toughest part of her job was conducting a Psychological Fitness-for-Duty examination. Maggie understood what being a cop meant to the men and women she worked with.
She also understood the challenges. A cop wasn’t seen as the fireman hero who raced into a building filled with smoke and fire. More often than not, the public viewed a cop as an idiot bent on making their life miserable.
Looking at her notes, Maggie had to ponder her fortune – or misfortune – depending on her point of view at the time, the request for an FFD exam on Detective Brett Connors. A 25-year veteran, the detective, over the last few years, had been assigned to a series of horrific murders. It didn’t take much reflection on Maggie’s part to recognize a man in some serious pain.
Partly due to her profession, but more because of who she was as a person, the vortex of such agony sucked Maggie in. This is why she became a psychologist.
Now, if she could just get over this uncontrollable urge to jump the detective’s bones.
“Let’s just complicate the whole damn thing,” Maggie mused.
She remembered when she used to be a rational person. She needed to find a way to settle down before her next round with the sexy, troubled Detective Connors.
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