Chapter 5: Scene of the Crime
Location: Sunset Valley Residential Area
Time: 2:25
Sam pulled over in the parking space of Block B at Sunset Apartments. George was already there. Sam hated herself for a moment for being late. She noticed how George was leaning against his patrol car, with his arms crossed.
Hope he’s not been waiting long.
She parked the car next to George’s, got out and ran up to him.
‘You’re late. Is everything ok?’ George did not meet her eyes, but there was a slight hint of concern in his tone.
‘Yeah, just stopped for a moment, I thought I saw something.’
George nodded. Sam noticed George looked very calm, given the situation. This town never had any reports of murder; once in every blue moon they would get a call for fight around the bar, but never for something like this.
Before Sam could ask him anything, Tom ran up to them. He was out of breath, and looked scared. George moved closer to Tom and patted him on the back.
‘You ok?’
‘Tom, what did you see?’
Sam did not receive it, but she was there when Maggie took the call. She could see it in his eyes: the fear of death.
‘I saw it, she was there.’
Tom pointed at the window where he saw Trish.
‘She was looking right at me, like she knew I would be there.’
‘Who?’ asked George.
‘TRISH, DUDE. IT WAS TRISH, NO MISTAKIN’ IT. I SAW HER DIE, MAN.’
‘That’s impossible,’ Sam said, ‘Trish left town two years ago.’
‘No,’ said George in a low tone as if he was muttering to himself. ‘She disappeared two years ago. Nobody knows where she went.’
He flashed his light at the window. There was no one there, just some red ooze.
‘Is that blood?’ Sam asked hesitantly.
George faced Tom, whose loud voice had poured out the neighbours.
‘Tom, stay here and for crying out loud, keep your voice down. I don’t want the locals panicking. Sam, get Mrs. Pickman. She rents that apartment out so she should have a spare set of keys.’
‘I’m on it.’
George and Sam ran up to the stairway, leading into the apartment building.
For Sam, this was something she always saw in the movies; read in the books. But now she was actually dealing with a murder site. Everything she had read in the text when she signed up was running wild in her mind. Secure the crime scene; watch your partner’s back; the suspect could still be on the scene.
Upstairs on the first floor and George took point. Mrs. Pickman’s apartment was on this floor so Sam had to part ways. George carried on. She turned left and ran straight down the corridor.
Hope Mrs. Pickman is…
Before she could knock on the door of apartment no 12, a woman in her late early 30s stepped out. She had red coloured Egyptian princess hairstyle, her skin pale white, dark eyes and she was wearing her night gown. She recognised Sam instantly.
‘Sam, what’s all that noise outside?’
‘Mrs. Pickman, I need the keys for the apartment 32; right now.’
Mrs. Pickman hurriedly went back in and in a matter of a few seconds came back with the keys.
‘Is everything OK, Sam?’
‘Stay inside and lock your door, Melissa.’
She took the keys and ran back to the stairway. She could hear Melissa yelling in the back,
‘It’s Mrs. Pickman!’
She paid no attention to that and kept her focus on more important issues at hand. The scene around her was a blur. She was on the stairs and found herself on the second floor and within moments, on the third floor. She turned left and George was leaning against the wall, next to the door of apartment no. 32. His gun was out and he was ready to move in. Sam ran up to him.
She unlocked the door and pressed herself against the wall next to the door. George turned the knob and signalled to Sam that he was moving in. Sam pulled her gun out of the holster. It felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was just the nerves, Sam thought. Or maybe it was the burden of responsibility that has now crept in her body. She always carried her gun, but today, she had the power to save someone’s life or to take someone’s.
George kicked the door opened. The sound echoed in the darkness that waited for them in the apartment. He held his gun pointing forward with his flashlight. From what he could see, there was no one waiting for them in there.
‘Clear!’
There was an awful smell in the apartment, like something has been rotting in there for a long time. Sam moved in a little and reached out for the lights. With the flick of a switch, their vision was much clearer.
The apartment was clean and looked like any other in the building. But then things changed. George nearly slipped by something slimy on the floor. It was blood. George and Sam exchanged a glance. A trail of blood was going from the kitchen area to the bathroom.
George stepped in the kitchen area. The area was painted red. The window in the kitchen where Tom said he saw Trish standing was covered in the veil of blood. There was an axe on the floor, near a puddle of red coloured liquid. The sight was disturbing but George kept his calm.
While George was looking inside the kitchen area, Sam followed the trail to the bathroom. It was dark. She switched the light on and when she saw the sight, she screamed.
George heard the scream and ran to help. He thought Sam had bumped into the killer. All sorts of horrible thoughts ran rampant in his mind within a matter of seconds. But it was not the killer she ran into. It was the victim.
There was a dead body in the bathtub. The victim was a woman, lying in the pool of her own blood. There were some cuts on her body and there was something else.
‘The head? Where’s the head?’ George’s conscience was louder than the sound of Sam throwing up outside the apartment.
The two had never seen anything like this. George had seen some weird stuff in his time; he had been through a lot to make this town safe. But never in his career had he seen anything like this.
Sam was outside the apartment. There was something churning in her stomach. The sick gross sight of a headless corpse was too much for her. It was only a matter of time before her dinner popped up and out of her mouth.
She knew who it was.
Maybe it’s not her; we can’t confirm it’s Trish without the head…
The more she thought about the corpse, the sicker she felt. She wanted to hope; she wanted to believe that Trish was alive.
She felt a touch on her shoulder. George was always there for her and she knew she could count on him.
‘You OK?’ asked George.
Sam nodded. She took a deep breath, settling her stomach and asked George,
‘What are we going to do?’
Sam’s question made George think for a second. This was not some petty theft that he dealt with every now and then. It was a murder. He had to do what should be done now.
‘We’re gonna seal this area, ask some questions and we’re gonna catch this guy.’
His words were reassuring but Sam’s heart was still filled with sorrow.
As for George, time meant everything. He had to catch his bearings. The news of this incident would spread like a wildfire. The townsfolk would panic and fingers would be pointed. Old secrets would resurface, bringing with them all the pain and horror they held.
Then there were questions that his instinct as a police officer was asking him. Who was the killer? Could someone from this town be really capable of doing such thing? Could it be someone from outside? Would the killer strike again? And realising what X said to him earlier, Sunset Valley would never be the same again.