He had never been on this side of things before. Normally, he was the one telling the victim’s next of kin that they had found a body and would need them to positively identify it so that the department could move on with the case. He always offered a kind and sympathetic word, sometimes a friendly pat on the back. Now, as he stood on the other side, he realized that his compassion was completely inadequate for the task that faced them…that faced him. “Well, if it isn’t Detective Matsen!” a cheery receptionist called out when he walked through the front doors. “I’m so sorry that you haven’t returned under better circumstances.” “Thanks, Maggie. But it’s sergeant now. I was demoted, more or less.” He shrugged, not wanting anyone to know how hurt he was when he found out that he wouldn’t be a detective upon his return to Chicago. Hell, he wasn’t even allowed to work any cases. He was stuck behind a desk in an administrative capacity, regardless of the fact that quite a few of his previous partners from Houston and Chicago vouched that he was sober and could handle the job.
