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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1571882-Untitled
by CP
Rated: E · Other · Mystery · #1571882
This is only the beginning of a story I've been writing. Thoughts so far?
Day one. 9:47 p.m. Approaching scene of the crime; 239 Shackle Drive, a rickety old house. As I got closer I realized that the pile of wood they called a house put the shack in Shackle Drive.
Body. Roughly 19 years old. Male. Unidentifiable. How brutal. Flashing blue, red.  Cops… great. The intensity can only grow with each step I take, pulling me into another disaster also known as my job. Deep breath. Here we go…

Freeman. 5’10”.  Glass eye. He’s ignorant, cocky, and quite awkward most of the time. He doesn’t happen to be the brightest bulb on the tree but he repeatedly tries to prove you wrong on that and it doesn’t usually work out for him, and on the plus side he drives me crazy.  Now just throw all of these awful qualities together and yep, you get my partner. The fact that he beat me here started his night off great. I can tell by the smug look on his stupid, unshaven face.
“Hey Scheck. Long time no see,” he walks over like he’s Fonzy from Happy days, or a guy who just sprained his ankle. Y’know, the way you see all these teenagers trying to strut around these days. I hold my laughter in. “This one’s a doosey, Scheck. A couple CSIs have been around the house already and really haven’t found much they can work with.  This house has been abandoned for a long time. Almost feels like the roof is gonna collapse on me any minute.”
Freeman smirks clumsily and looks up slowly, as if the second his eyes hit the ceiling the whole thing would fall instantly.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not going to fall on ya, Freeman. It seems pretty sturdy to me.” If only the roof really did fall on this guy…
“Hah, yeah I know Scheck, I was only jokin’, heh.” He shoves me over in a way an overrated football player would with his buddies after a good play or a touchdown.
“Yeah, alright. Hah you’re a funny guy, Freeman… so what do we know about any family? Have we figured out where they are or anything yet? Any witnesses?”
I try to keep things moving and from being too awkward for too long. It’s harder than it sounds.
“MIA, man. Poor guy. It’s like the second he dies, they bolt,” he says sounding incredibly rehearsed. The way he talks makes me want to eat my hand. I bite my nails to try and relax the urge and nod my head.
“Wait a sec… we don’t even know who this guy is yet, right? So how could we even begin to know where his family could be?” I got him. He begins to say something but stops awkwardly as usual.
“Oh, good point there, Scheck. Must’ve been talkin’ about another case or somethin’, heh heh.” His nervous laughter makes my day. I grin as he tries to busy himself to avoid me. All right, back to work.

         I head down to the pond nearby where the homicide took place. The poor kid was drowned in 4 feet of murky water. It gave me chills just looking at it. When I got closer, past all of the caution tape, unnecessary cops and flashing lights, I realized that there was a twist to this case, and it was a big one.  I stop dead in my tracks and stare in disbelief. The only thing I can hear is Freeman’s choppy footsteps sneaking up on me.
“Woah, I’m so sorry man…I was supposed to tell you about this. But it’s crazy, huh?” He puts his hand on my shoulder reassuringly, but I shrug it off vigorously as I stare at not one, but two lifeless bodies chained together; a bloody mess in the grass.  It was bone chilling. The rusty metal chains gripped the flesh so tightly it was like a snake suffocating its prey.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1571882-Untitled