passed before any police personnel arrived. Wayne and Jason were the officers assigned to this case.
“You must be the driver of this vehicle?” Jason asked, as the driver walked over to him.
Jason was in his early twenties, clean-shaven, dark blonde hair, stopping just past his ears. He had the attitude problem of a hyperactive, spoilt brat, but did his job and Wayne liked working with him. Being a young Constable, he was in charge of writing details down on his notepad.
“Yes. My name’s Frank. I was driving along this road when I saw a person standing in the middle of it.” He watched the reaction of the other men’s eyes, hoping they believed him. “I tried telling the person to get out the way, but they didn’t move. I braked, but it was too late.”
Jason took this opportunity to look at the black skid-marks left by the truck, knowing the man was telling the truth about slamming on his brakes because the proof was right there.
Frank’s nerves took over. Wayne moved closer to him, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. Jason interrupted the other men, raising his pen as if to ask a question.
“So, exactly where’s the person you knocked down?”
“Everywhere,” replied Frank.
“What do you mean everywhere?” Jason snapped.
Frank pointed out that when he hit the body it was torn to pieces, and apart from the bits stuck to the front of the vehicle, the rest had landed in the grass verge by the side of the road. Jason jotted down the information and followed the path.
Wayne, a Sergeant, who was in his early thirties, with dark brown, short hair, and a much larger body-frame than his partner, stayed with Frank. Both concentrated closely on Jason’s footsteps.
Jason’s left boot stood in something sticky so he stopped to take a closer look. Chunks of clotted tissue had left a trail of red colouring so he followed it until reaching the spot where the answer waited for him. Yes, he could see that something registering human remains was there.
“I’ve found something and it doesn’t appear to be very pretty. I’m taking a closer look to see what it is.”
“Okay, you do that,” said Wayne.
Jason couldn’t believe his eyes at what he saw. Arms and legs lay on the grass, showing clear signs that the person had been brutally murdered and not run over as Frank had explained. He began to wonder if Frank was lying, and his story had been concocted to hide the fact that he was a killer. Jason always thought the worst in other people. According to him, all strangers were murderers. He changed his thoughts after a few more seconds because the body pieces looked so far decayed that nobody could have killed this person within the past few hours, in fact, not even within the past week or so. Jason was completely puzzled.
“I think we’ve a slight problem here,” he shouted to Wayne. The other men concentrated even harder on Jason’s actions. “You said this body stood in the road just before you knocked it down with your truck. Is that right?” the disgusted constable asked Frank.
Frank nodded to confirm his answer.
Wayne stepped in. “Jason, what’s your point to all this? You know what happened, so why all the questions?”
“I think you’d best come over; take a peep. You’re going to love this.”
The other men moved closer to Jason. Once there, also saw the sickening sight by the roadside.
“My God, you definitely hit them,” Wayne said, as a sick taste built up in his throat.
“Take a closer look if you would, Wayne. You’ll see that this body wasn’t killed by the lorry because it’s been dead for over a week.”
Frank was at the point of fainting when he heard those words. Wayne stared at the carnage in more detail, agreeing with Jason. “You’re right. So what do you think happened then, Jay?”
Wayne knew the facial expressions Jason put on, and could see from this expression that the young constable had his ‘Sherlock Holmes’ head on at this time. Jason turned, glaring at Frank
“You must be the driver of this vehicle?” Jason asked, as the driver walked over to him.
Jason was in his early twenties, clean-shaven, dark blonde hair, stopping just past his ears. He had the attitude problem of a hyperactive, spoilt brat, but did his job and Wayne liked working with him. Being a young Constable, he was in charge of writing details down on his notepad.
“Yes. My name’s Frank. I was driving along this road when I saw a person standing in the middle of it.” He watched the reaction of the other men’s eyes, hoping they believed him. “I tried telling the person to get out the way, but they didn’t move. I braked, but it was too late.”
Jason took this opportunity to look at the black skid-marks left by the truck, knowing the man was telling the truth about slamming on his brakes because the proof was right there.
Frank’s nerves took over. Wayne moved closer to him, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. Jason interrupted the other men, raising his pen as if to ask a question.
“So, exactly where’s the person you knocked down?”
“Everywhere,” replied Frank.
“What do you mean everywhere?” Jason snapped.
Frank pointed out that when he hit the body it was torn to pieces, and apart from the bits stuck to the front of the vehicle, the rest had landed in the grass verge by the side of the road. Jason jotted down the information and followed the path.
Wayne, a Sergeant, who was in his early thirties, with dark brown, short hair, and a much larger body-frame than his partner, stayed with Frank. Both concentrated closely on Jason’s footsteps.
Jason’s left boot stood in something sticky so he stopped to take a closer look. Chunks of clotted tissue had left a trail of red colouring so he followed it until reaching the spot where the answer waited for him. Yes, he could see that something registering human remains was there.
“I’ve found something and it doesn’t appear to be very pretty. I’m taking a closer look to see what it is.”
“Okay, you do that,” said Wayne.
Jason couldn’t believe his eyes at what he saw. Arms and legs lay on the grass, showing clear signs that the person had been brutally murdered and not run over as Frank had explained. He began to wonder if Frank was lying, and his story had been concocted to hide the fact that he was a killer. Jason always thought the worst in other people. According to him, all strangers were murderers. He changed his thoughts after a few more seconds because the body pieces looked so far decayed that nobody could have killed this person within the past few hours, in fact, not even within the past week or so. Jason was completely puzzled.
“I think we’ve a slight problem here,” he shouted to Wayne. The other men concentrated even harder on Jason’s actions. “You said this body stood in the road just before you knocked it down with your truck. Is that right?” the disgusted constable asked Frank.
Frank nodded to confirm his answer.
Wayne stepped in. “Jason, what’s your point to all this? You know what happened, so why all the questions?”
“I think you’d best come over; take a peep. You’re going to love this.”
The other men moved closer to Jason. Once there, also saw the sickening sight by the roadside.
“My God, you definitely hit them,” Wayne said, as a sick taste built up in his throat.
“Take a closer look if you would, Wayne. You’ll see that this body wasn’t killed by the lorry because it’s been dead for over a week.”
Frank was at the point of fainting when he heard those words. Wayne stared at the carnage in more detail, agreeing with Jason. “You’re right. So what do you think happened then, Jay?”
Wayne knew the facial expressions Jason put on, and could see from this expression that the young constable had his ‘Sherlock Holmes’ head on at this time. Jason turned, glaring at Frank
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