Come on, Cap, go home. You’re gonna drool all over the evidence.” “Huh—what?” Marco jerked upright and swiped his palm down his face. “I’m up. I’m up.” Coulter reached toward him and peeled away the notecard stuck to his hair, then took the seat across from the desk. “Sure you are. It’s six thirty. Have you been here all night?” “Well, when you’ve been scooping up criminals at the rate we’ve been lately, a lot of paperwork accumulates.” “I take it she’s still not returning your calls.” Marco didn’t acknowledge the statement. He wrenched open the drawer by his side and rifled through the contents in search of a protein bar or anything to fill the hunger in his belly. The next time he stopped by his house he’d have to remember to throw some munchies into a bag to bring back to the station. Over the last two weeks he’d eaten his way through the buffet in the vending machine and his wallet was depleted of ones. Not to mention all of that junk food was giving him gas and the sodium was making his left arm tingle.
