Bitter Blood
© 2014 RE de Jauregui
Bitter made her way past the flashing blue and red lights, past the yellow tape. She didn’t show her badge to the hovering blues; they knew who she was.
A smudge of brownish red marred the grey cement as she stopped to put disposable booties over her shoes. She grimaced at the staid practicality. There was a time she’d have worn high heels, forensics be damned. Now her knees protested as she ascended the steps, and heels? Heels were impossible.
The young officer at the door did stop her. “Detective, I don’t think you….”
Bitter stared him down as his words faltered and trailed away like the long years since she’d joined the force. He stepped out of the way.
The carpet squished as she picked her way past the overturned sofa and stepped into the kitchenette. He was sprawled across the floor under the open window. Death’s indignities softened the limp muscles; the body was face, well, chest down. Jagged skin ripped across the remains of his neck. She didn’t think he was a young man, but it was hard to tell―his head was gone. A quick glance revealed that his fingers were also missing. Judging by the torn remnants of his khaki pants, he was probably missing other parts as well.
“Prints?” Despite the wide pool of blood congealing on the tile and splattered on the wall, Bitter’s voice was dispassionate, detached from the scene.
One of the techs glanced up at her. Sweat darkened the edges of his mask, though the night was cool. “No, none yet.”
“Identifying marks?”
He pointed silently at the faded tattoo on a bare shoulder, barely visible under the spattered blood.
Bitter glanced, then stepped forward, nearly treading in the blood. Emergency lights flashed through the window, alternately painting her face blue and red, as she paled. She swallowed and the tech looked up at her face.
“Are you all right?” His voice was puzzled. She’d seen worse during the drug wars. A headless man was nothing new or unusual in this city.
She stepped back and turned away, hiding her face. “No,” she choked out. She took a deep breath as she dodged past the sofa, out the door and rumbled down the stairs. She paused at the bottom.
“Bitter?”
“Call the Chief. He needs someone else from Homicide. Here. Now.” Her voice was urgent.
The tone in her voice drew the attention of the blues. Conversation stopped as they turned toward her. She took a few more steps and turned, leaning against her car, hands over her face.
The blues parted like the Red Sea as Sgt O’Malley emerged from the darkness of the alley. He looked around and suddenly all were busy with notebooks and crowd control.
“Bitter?”
She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes, reflecting the flashing lights.
His voice softened, but he didn’t reach out to her. He knew better. “Bitter?”
She shook her head and turned away, shuddering with rage. She looked up at the darkening moon, drifting behind the black clouds as a single tear streaked down her carefully rouged cheek.
“It’s my ex.”
To be continued...
Coming to Kindle soon!!
© 2014 RE de Jauregui
Bitter made her way past the flashing blue and red lights, past the yellow tape. She didn’t show her badge to the hovering blues; they knew who she was.
A smudge of brownish red marred the grey cement as she stopped to put disposable booties over her shoes. She grimaced at the staid practicality. There was a time she’d have worn high heels, forensics be damned. Now her knees protested as she ascended the steps, and heels? Heels were impossible.
The young officer at the door did stop her. “Detective, I don’t think you….”
Bitter stared him down as his words faltered and trailed away like the long years since she’d joined the force. He stepped out of the way.
The carpet squished as she picked her way past the overturned sofa and stepped into the kitchenette. He was sprawled across the floor under the open window. Death’s indignities softened the limp muscles; the body was face, well, chest down. Jagged skin ripped across the remains of his neck. She didn’t think he was a young man, but it was hard to tell―his head was gone. A quick glance revealed that his fingers were also missing. Judging by the torn remnants of his khaki pants, he was probably missing other parts as well.
“Prints?” Despite the wide pool of blood congealing on the tile and splattered on the wall, Bitter’s voice was dispassionate, detached from the scene.
One of the techs glanced up at her. Sweat darkened the edges of his mask, though the night was cool. “No, none yet.”
“Identifying marks?”
He pointed silently at the faded tattoo on a bare shoulder, barely visible under the spattered blood.
Bitter glanced, then stepped forward, nearly treading in the blood. Emergency lights flashed through the window, alternately painting her face blue and red, as she paled. She swallowed and the tech looked up at her face.
“Are you all right?” His voice was puzzled. She’d seen worse during the drug wars. A headless man was nothing new or unusual in this city.
She stepped back and turned away, hiding her face. “No,” she choked out. She took a deep breath as she dodged past the sofa, out the door and rumbled down the stairs. She paused at the bottom.
“Bitter?”
“Call the Chief. He needs someone else from Homicide. Here. Now.” Her voice was urgent.
The tone in her voice drew the attention of the blues. Conversation stopped as they turned toward her. She took a few more steps and turned, leaning against her car, hands over her face.
The blues parted like the Red Sea as Sgt O’Malley emerged from the darkness of the alley. He looked around and suddenly all were busy with notebooks and crowd control.
“Bitter?”
She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes, reflecting the flashing lights.
His voice softened, but he didn’t reach out to her. He knew better. “Bitter?”
She shook her head and turned away, shuddering with rage. She looked up at the darkening moon, drifting behind the black clouds as a single tear streaked down her carefully rouged cheek.
“It’s my ex.”
To be continued...
Coming to Kindle soon!!
