Welcome back to the continuing saga that is poorly titled (for now) "A Murder Story" although an earlier suggestion is really growing on me. This is the ninth part of the second day of this winding and twisting crime saga. I was writing this as part of NaNoWriMo -- sadly I didn't crack the 50,000 word mark but the writing continues...
If this is your first visit here, please feel free to go back and read the story from the beginning.
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Danny Kline walked on the trail around the side of the smallish pond before descending down the bank towards the water while Miranda Grove worked her way alongside the fence and trail which lined the small backyards of each of the block of townhomes.
Inside Ms. Pinkowski’s townhome, Officers Meyer and Cornwell examined the walls, floors and seemingly every inch of every surface with flashlights as they looked for any evidence that may have been left behind.
“Hey Marcus,” Sherry yelled out, “I’ve got something here.”
“Yeah Sherry,” Marcus replied, “what is it?”
“It’s a crumpled up note. No name,” Sherry stated, “but it does have a phone number.”
“Hey Sherry,” Marcus yelled out from the victim’s bedroom, “has anyone found her cell phone yet?”
Sherry glanced around at the other two officers who were working the scene, asking them without saying a word.
“Nope Marcus,” Sherry yelled back, “no phone yet but let’s double back on each other’s work and see if either of us finds anything the other missed.”
Officers Marcus Meyer and Sherry Cornwell continued to go through the townhome of Becky Pinkowski with proverbial fine-toothed combs.
Outside of the home, Officer Miranda Grove explored every inch of the rear of the property with painstaking detail.
“Fuck,” Grove muttered to herself, “a shoe print. This could be...” Miranda trailed off again, entirely wrapped up in her detailed investigative work.
“Holy shit,” Danny Kline yelled out from across the smallish pond to nobody in particular.
Miranda sprang up and yelled out, “Did you find something, Danny?”
Miranda picked up her toolbox and sprinted around the trail to the opposite side of the pond where her partner Lead Investigator Danny Kline was standing along the shoreline.
“What, what...?” Miranda asked as she paused to catch her breath from the quick dash.
“Well,” Danny began, “only this Miranda.” Danny held up, on the end of a stick, a blood-soaked navy blue sweatshirt. As he turned it around, Miranda gasped.
“Fucking shit, Danny,” Miranda exclaimed, “that’s...” Miranda covered her mouth in shock.
Danny displayed the blood-soaked sweatshirt with one hand as he unfurled a plastic evidence bag with his other hand.
As Miranda stared at the back of the sweatshirt, she began talking. “Southwest State Law Academy -- fuck me. That’s...”
“That’s where you went to college, isn’t it?” Danny paused as he placed the sweatshirt in a bag.
“Hey,” Miranda said as she reached out for the bag, “the only way to get one of those sweatshirts is to enroll in the academy and each year they make new ones embroidered with the year that each student would graduate in. What’s the ye-”
Officer Grove stopped speaking mid-sentence.
At the same instance as Miranda noticed the embroidered graduation year, Danny did as well.
“2010” The pair said flatly almost in unison.
“Holy shit.” Miranda exclaimed. “If this is the killer’s sweatshirt, this fucker graduated with me or was at least in school with me. Jesus Christ, Danny, this fucker could know me. He could know who I am. He could know where I fucking live, Danny.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Miranda,” Danny held out his hand as he spoke, “we can’t be sure that this isn’t a sweatshirt that someone picked up at a thrift shop. And jumping to conclusions about the killer possibly knowing you isn’t going to do us any good.”
Danny returned to looking over the area but his mind picked up where Miranda had left off. What if this was someone that she had graduated with who had killed these two people? It was too convenient to find this bloody sweatshirt bearing the name of her alma mater to be a mere coincidence. Was Miranda even safe working on these cases now that this one piece of evidence had shown up? Maybe it just an overreaction, though. Why would anyone, particularly a killer, be seeking out Miranda?
Miranda, now more focused than ever, worked alongside Danny as the pair combed the area for evidence. If the killer had ditched his or her sweatshirt here in these bushes, maybe something was inadvertently left behind that would get them closer to an identity.
Danny, though, stood idly by for a moment. Miranda’s string of “what-ifs” had his mind reeling. He had to ask questions no matter how ridiculous they seemed.
Danny Kline walked on the trail around the side of the smallish pond before descending down the bank towards the water while Miranda Grove worked her way alongside the fence and trail which lined the small backyards of each of the block of townhomes.
Inside Ms. Pinkowski’s townhome, Officers Meyer and Cornwell examined the walls, floors and seemingly every inch of every surface with flashlights as they looked for any evidence that may have been left behind.
“Hey Marcus,” Sherry yelled out, “I’ve got something here.”
“Yeah Sherry,” Marcus replied, “what is it?”
“It’s a crumpled up note. No name,” Sherry stated, “but it does have a phone number.”
“Hey Sherry,” Marcus yelled out from the victim’s bedroom, “has anyone found her cell phone yet?”
Sherry glanced around at the other two officers who were working the scene, asking them without saying a word.
“Nope Marcus,” Sherry yelled back, “no phone yet but let’s double back on each other’s work and see if either of us finds anything the other missed.”
Officers Marcus Meyer and Sherry Cornwell continued to go through the townhome of Becky Pinkowski with proverbial fine-toothed combs.
Outside of the home, Officer Miranda Grove explored every inch of the rear of the property with painstaking detail.
“Fuck,” Grove muttered to herself, “a shoe print. This could be...” Miranda trailed off again, entirely wrapped up in her detailed investigative work.
“Holy shit,” Danny Kline yelled out from across the smallish pond to nobody in particular.
Miranda sprang up and yelled out, “Did you find something, Danny?”
Miranda picked up her toolbox and sprinted around the trail to the opposite side of the pond where her partner Lead Investigator Danny Kline was standing along the shoreline.
“What, what...?” Miranda asked as she paused to catch her breath from the quick dash.
“Well,” Danny began, “only this Miranda.” Danny held up, on the end of a stick, a blood-soaked navy blue sweatshirt. As he turned it around, Miranda gasped.
“Fucking shit, Danny,” Miranda exclaimed, “that’s...” Miranda covered her mouth in shock.
Danny displayed the blood-soaked sweatshirt with one hand as he unfurled a plastic evidence bag with his other hand.
As Miranda stared at the back of the sweatshirt, she began talking. “Southwest State Law Academy -- fuck me. That’s...”
“That’s where you went to college, isn’t it?” Danny paused as he placed the sweatshirt in a bag.
“Hey,” Miranda said as she reached out for the bag, “the only way to get one of those sweatshirts is to enroll in the academy and each year they make new ones embroidered with the year that each student would graduate in. What’s the ye-”
Officer Grove stopped speaking mid-sentence.
At the same instance as Miranda noticed the embroidered graduation year, Danny did as well.
“2010” The pair said flatly almost in unison.
“Holy shit.” Miranda exclaimed. “If this is the killer’s sweatshirt, this fucker graduated with me or was at least in school with me. Jesus Christ, Danny, this fucker could know me. He could know who I am. He could know where I fucking live, Danny.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Miranda,” Danny held out his hand as he spoke, “we can’t be sure that this isn’t a sweatshirt that someone picked up at a thrift shop. And jumping to conclusions about the killer possibly knowing you isn’t going to do us any good.”
Danny returned to looking over the area but his mind picked up where Miranda had left off. What if this was someone that she had graduated with who had killed these two people? It was too convenient to find this bloody sweatshirt bearing the name of her alma mater to be a mere coincidence. Was Miranda even safe working on these cases now that this one piece of evidence had shown up? Maybe it just an overreaction, though. Why would anyone, particularly a killer, be seeking out Miranda?
Miranda, now more focused than ever, worked alongside Danny as the pair combed the area for evidence. If the killer had ditched his or her sweatshirt here in these bushes, maybe something was inadvertently left behind that would get them closer to an identity.
Danny, though, stood idly by for a moment. Miranda’s string of “what-ifs” had his mind reeling. He had to ask questions no matter how ridiculous they seemed.
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Be sure to check back for the ongoing second chapter of this (hopefully) intriguing murder mystery!
1 comment:
This seems out of place on this post, lol.. but..
Merry Christmas, Sornie!
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