Jeanne Owens, author

Blog about author Jeanne Owens and her writing


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Untitled short story part 3

(continuation of the story started during SoCS)

part 1

part 2

 

Inside the shed, various tools hung along one of the walls, interspersed between a couple of small wooden shelves full of different small tools and bottles. A bicycle leaned against the far wall, covered in dust.  Boxes and plastic cartons sat against another wall. And two bodies lay not far from the door, an older adult man and woman, both bloody, bound and gagged. The man appeared to have been beaten before being  shot in the head. The woman had been shot in the chest.

“I don’t recall seeing anything inside the house that looked like a crime scene,” Detective Lucy Johnson said. “Do you, Mike?”

“No. He must have cleaned up after bringing them out here, before running off.”

Lucy knelt and examined the bodies briefly, then stood. “Well, the wounds still seem fairly fresh. I don’t think this could have happened very long ago. We’d better close this up and call it in. Then let’s see if we can figure out where Jared Martin went.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for forensics to get here before we go looking around? I’m sure they wouldn’t appreciate us traipsing around their crime scene.”

“But we’ve already done that, haven’t we? Granted, we didn’t know it was a crime scene at the time. We’ll just be extra careful and keep track of where we’ve been and what we’ve touched.”

Mike Evans sighed. He knew they should probably wait for the CSIs to get there, but he also knew Lucy had a point. And they needed to find a lead as to where Jared Martin might had gone before the trail grew cold. “Well, you’re the boss,” he said. “You have gloves, right?”

She frowned at him. “Of course I do. What sort of detective do you take me for?”

“Uh, right. Ok. Let’s call it in, then, and start looking.”

Lucy gave a nod, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed.

 

 

Across the street from the house, a tall, bearded man with a red baseball cap and matching hoody walked up to Lucy and Mike’s car. He looked from it, to the house two doors down, and back, and frowned. “Already here?” he muttered. “Damn! Now how can I get it back? I can’t believe I left it.” He sighed. “I guess I have no choice.”

He stuck a hand into a pocket of his jacket and started to cross the street. As he did, sirens sounded nearby and a few moments later police cars rounded the far corner of the street.

“Damn!” the man muttered again, ducking behind Lucy’s car for cover just as the police cars pulled up in front of the house. He peered around the car and watched the new arrivals. When it seemed all their attention was focused on the house, he took a chance and ran off behind the house behind him.