Stalked

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Dark cosmic humor was the only explanation as to why FBI Special Agent Suzanne Madeaux was investigating a murder at Citi Field instead of sitting on the first-base line with a beer. Proof that life wasn’t fair.

Suzanne stuffed her thick dark blond hair under her Mets cap and left her cool air-conditioned sedan for the early dawn New York summer. The weather didn’t bother her-she was born and raised in Louisiana, and New York had nothing on the South for humidity-but the noise from nearby LaGuardia grated on her nerves.

She looked up at the Citi Field stadium and sighed. She’d had a ticket to last night’s game and had to give it away because of work. Late to bed, early to rise, no time for her one vice-baseball and beer. Two vices. Now her team was on the road for nearly two weeks and she’d only be able to watch them on television. Sometimes, she hated her job.

She flashed her badge and was let under the crime scene tape. In addition to dragging her out of bed for a case outside of her jurisdiction, her boss had given her no information about why she had to get her ass out to a Queens homicide after working until two a.m. Murder didn’t usually fall under the purview of the FBI, and she had no active serial killer cases.

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