Nervous?

Cam sat in his office long after his visitor had left. Sweat trickled down his face. A welcome change from the deluge that had soaked his undershirt. He loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, but no relief from the searing pain across his chest came.

Deep breath, he told himself as he stared, bug-eyed at the plain, brown envelope on his blotter.

Had he seen a ghost? His guest had reminded him of someone. Cam smacked his own forehead. “Don’t go there.”

His ancient electric clock hummed on the wall behind him. He glanced at the chronometer and realized he only had an hour and half before his date. “Shit.”

He scooped up the present his unwanted visitor had given him and jammed it under his arm. His rumpled suit jacket in hand, he strolled out of his office. Thankfully, no one occupied the multitude of desks in the division office. No one would until the next morning.

Were a homicide or some other crime that required one of the detectives to occur the next guy up would be paged.