Short fiction. First person crime: I looked down at the bloodied mess of a body that was baking in the harsh desert sunlight. I scanned the bullet wound in the bodys neck, the shade from my trademark stetson dampening the glare of the sun and making it easier to examine. The victim was a man in his mid-twenties - way too young to have met this fate out here. .45? I asked my deputy, Thomas Draven. He walked around the body to face me, his short black hair gathering dust. Found no slug yet, Danny, he explained in his soft northern accent, something akin to the sound of a soothing country and western song I always thought. Ive canvassed the area, but as you can see - there aint much. I looked up at him and gave a small smile. It was just us two and a medical examiner from the local offices, who was busy digging around the back of his van for something. I pointed to the wound on the dead mans neck. See the stippling around the wound? Thomas nodded, his deep-set hazel eyes glimmering with dread. I continued. Along with the gunshot residue Id say this guy was executed. I felt my heart sink into my boots just saying it. A soft gust of wind whistled past, bringing a dryness to my mouth. As I scratched my unshaven face contemplatively, I stood up straight and assessed the surroundings. This was an ideal place for an execution - isolated, barely inhabited and the night time brought all sorts of animals that could feast on a carcass and destroy the evidence. Thomas? Search the surrounding area for tyre tracks, get deputies Phillips and Feureda to find out about this guy, and make sure the examiner is given all the room he needs. With a firm nod Thomas was off dialling the station on his phone. No-one was going to hinder things this time. I had a murderer on the loose and I was dammed if I was going to let the bastard get away with it.
Posted on: Wed, 30 Jul 2014 13:07:43 +0000
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