Detective McKinney: The Calling Card
The Calling Card
The rain is falling. Hard. It bounces off my skin like the snap of a rubber-band. It wouldn't be so bad if my skin wasn't frozen stiff.
It's cold. Colder than it usually is. Why the f#!@ am I out here?
That's right, somebody has to solve this murder.
Normally, no one bats an eye at a dead w&#$%, much-less call me. This one must be special.
The crime scene is littered with losers who have nothing better to do than stare at a dead h$@#&%. Maybe one of them saw something useful. Doubtful, but maybe.
Why do these f&!@#$ cops always have to f%@ up my crime scenes!? Have some respect.
Yup, that's a dead w&#$@ alright. Face down. Killer was either in a hurry, or ashamed of what he did. Signs of struggle. Bruises on her arms, broken finger nails. No, wait. Those look older. Interesting. Prick behind her ear. Drugged. No obvious CoD. Could have been the drugs. Doubtful. They wouldn't call me if they didn't think there was something else going on.
"Hey, d!#$ head, make yourself useful and roll her over would ya."
"Yes, sir. That's why we called you. We didn't want to disturb anything so we stopped when we saw it..."
My god. They took her eyes. I've seen a lot of s%&@, but I've never seen something like this. What monster takes the eyes and leaves behind massive rubies in their place!?
That is one damn expensive calling card...
To Be Continued...