Lieutenant Bailey’s disgruntled voice greeted Logan even before he crossed the threshold into the squad room.This, Logan thought, did not sound good.Usually it took a few hours before the day began to look as if it was going to hell. Having it begin in hell guaranteed a slow, unmerciful torture for him. When Lieutenant Bailey wasn’t happy, no one in his squad was happy.Walking in, Logan saw the reason why the lieutenant’s voice had carried so well. The man was not in his office. Right now, he was standing near the doorway, talking on his cell. Or rather, the older, disgruntled-looking man was cursing into his phone.“Problem, Lieutenant?” he asked mildly as the other man abruptly disconnected the call that was apparently creating his less than jovial mood.“Only if you call working with half a squad a problem. That was Wakefield, calling in sick. This is worse than when we had the blue flu,” he grumbled, referring to an incident several years back. At that time, an inordinate number of the uniformed officers called in sick in protest over what they felt was a wrongful disciplinary action of one of their own.
