Snippet #1191081

The pretty-boy from the lobby interrupted them then disappeared into the private room. From the way he addressed the victim's mother, he must have been a boyfriend or a close friend though there was something about him that suggested the former, rather than the latter, to Jack. Which was odd, considering the way he'd been with the red-head outside in the lobby.

With a mental shrug, Jack thought no more about it. If it wasn't related to the case, it was none of his business.

"Jack," he said. "Call me Jack, Mrs Peterson. We need to rule out the possibility that this was a targeted attack; it's unlikely, but it's got to be done. Can you tell me what Alexa did for a living? Why she might have been out in that area of the city? Did she have any enemies that you know of?"

He didn't think for a moment that this was anything more sinister than it appeared. Alexa Peterson had stumbled across a mugging, had taken it upon herself to stand up for the victim and had suffered greatly for that good deed. Karma it was not. Jack didn't believe in any of that bullshit anyway; he known good people die for stupid reasons and bad people live out a life of untouched luxury (despite the efforts of the NYPD to pin something on them). It was all random and to superimpose some kind of supernatural order onto events was to kid ones self.