He was pushing fifty, with a face life had chewed on, and long wisps of graying hair parted low on one side and combed over his balding pate.
I refuse to sit on my laurels.
I wouldn't want to donate my body for scientific study.
Everyone is doing forensics.
I constantly remind people that crime isn't solved by technology; it's solved by people.
My friends call me Miss Worst Case Scenario.