to catch up on paperwork. She looked around the room now, restless, pinned in by the solid walls and the everyday duties of her not-all-that-normal daylight world. "Too quiet," she murmured. She glanced at the clock on her computer screen. She yawned and stretched aching muscles. "Hasn't anybody gotten murdered yet this morning?"
A few seconds later the call came in, and she had her answer.
"This is interesting."
The beat cop who was the first person on the scene had the usual understated, unimpressed attitude of a street veteran. There were a lot of ways to define interesting. Considering the blank face and lack of emotion in the voice of the patrol woman, Selena assumed that interesting in this case meant grisly and disgusting.
They were standing at the entrance of an alley in a nice neighborhood of row houses not too far from Oak Street Beach. The midmorning sun shone down from a clear sky on red brick buildings with blue painted moldand on the bright blooms in a row of first-floor flower boxes. But for the police on scene, the squad cars, coroner's wagon, and the gathering of curious bystanders being kept well back from the alley, this was a peaceful, quiet place. Selena took out her pen and notebook, ready to start her crime scene log.
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Raleigh gestured beyond the yellow tape strung up by the crime scene unit. "Let's go have a look."
Selena tried to clear her mind of all suppositions before seeing the body. A dead body found in an alley did not automatically constitute murder. Her job right now was to look at the body and physical evidence and to interview witnesses, not to make assumptions. Despite the beat cop's oblique warning that what was waiting ahead of them could be a suicide, it might be a death caused by accident or natural causes.
Her training told her to be objective. She smiled slightly, cynically. Objectivity was for rookies. Her instincts knew it was a murder.
While it was a fact that anyone could get killed anywhere at any time, there tended to be a pattern for the types of bodies found in different settings. This was not the sort of neighborhood where Selena expected to find a dead hooker or crack addict, though maybe one had been dumped in the alley. It could happen, but most murders were easy to solve. People murdered people they knew and got caught.
Most murders really were crimes of passion, or of at least immense stupidity brought on by overwhelming emotion.
She was only a few feet into the alley before she smelled burnt flesh. Then she saw the head, a pale visage sitting in a puddle of congealed blood. The mutilated torso was a few feet farther back, propped up against a brick wall. There was a lot of blood and flies. The victim certainly didn't belong in this part of town. At least not at this time of day.
"Definitely interesting," Raleigh said.
And certainly a crime of passion, Selena decided. You had to really be pissed off at someone to do that much damage to them. And you knew how hard they were to kill.
"Nice clean cuts," the beat officer said. "What do you think? Chainsaw?"
DesertDog had mentioned using chainsaws once, in explicit detail, in one of the companion cabal's more heated discussions. Shit.
Raleigh made a noncommittal noise. Selena noted that the photographer was finished with pictures and approached a forensics technician. She bummed a pair of plastic booties and once her shoes were covered, she gingerly stepped up to the unattached head.
Raleigh was there before her, not as fastidious with his footgear as she was. "Male," he said. "That the whitest white guy you've ever seen?"
"No." She took a careful look at the pavement and the surrounding buildings. "Not dumped here. Too much blood."
The beat cop said, "So far, nobody we've talked to heard a thing."
No, Selena thought. Most wouldn't, if the killer didn't want them to. The Force had a strong influence over the weak minded,
A few seconds later the call came in, and she had her answer.
"This is interesting."
The beat cop who was the first person on the scene had the usual understated, unimpressed attitude of a street veteran. There were a lot of ways to define interesting. Considering the blank face and lack of emotion in the voice of the patrol woman, Selena assumed that interesting in this case meant grisly and disgusting.
They were standing at the entrance of an alley in a nice neighborhood of row houses not too far from Oak Street Beach. The midmorning sun shone down from a clear sky on red brick buildings with blue painted moldand on the bright blooms in a row of first-floor flower boxes. But for the police on scene, the squad cars, coroner's wagon, and the gathering of curious bystanders being kept well back from the alley, this was a peaceful, quiet place. Selena took out her pen and notebook, ready to start her crime scene log.
Page 32
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Raleigh gestured beyond the yellow tape strung up by the crime scene unit. "Let's go have a look."
Selena tried to clear her mind of all suppositions before seeing the body. A dead body found in an alley did not automatically constitute murder. Her job right now was to look at the body and physical evidence and to interview witnesses, not to make assumptions. Despite the beat cop's oblique warning that what was waiting ahead of them could be a suicide, it might be a death caused by accident or natural causes.
Her training told her to be objective. She smiled slightly, cynically. Objectivity was for rookies. Her instincts knew it was a murder.
While it was a fact that anyone could get killed anywhere at any time, there tended to be a pattern for the types of bodies found in different settings. This was not the sort of neighborhood where Selena expected to find a dead hooker or crack addict, though maybe one had been dumped in the alley. It could happen, but most murders were easy to solve. People murdered people they knew and got caught.
Most murders really were crimes of passion, or of at least immense stupidity brought on by overwhelming emotion.
She was only a few feet into the alley before she smelled burnt flesh. Then she saw the head, a pale visage sitting in a puddle of congealed blood. The mutilated torso was a few feet farther back, propped up against a brick wall. There was a lot of blood and flies. The victim certainly didn't belong in this part of town. At least not at this time of day.
"Definitely interesting," Raleigh said.
And certainly a crime of passion, Selena decided. You had to really be pissed off at someone to do that much damage to them. And you knew how hard they were to kill.
"Nice clean cuts," the beat officer said. "What do you think? Chainsaw?"
DesertDog had mentioned using chainsaws once, in explicit detail, in one of the companion cabal's more heated discussions. Shit.
Raleigh made a noncommittal noise. Selena noted that the photographer was finished with pictures and approached a forensics technician. She bummed a pair of plastic booties and once her shoes were covered, she gingerly stepped up to the unattached head.
Raleigh was there before her, not as fastidious with his footgear as she was. "Male," he said. "That the whitest white guy you've ever seen?"
"No." She took a careful look at the pavement and the surrounding buildings. "Not dumped here. Too much blood."
The beat cop said, "So far, nobody we've talked to heard a thing."
No, Selena thought. Most wouldn't, if the killer didn't want them to. The Force had a strong influence over the weak minded,
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