Cloudwatch

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Under that sky, Mariah Heap drew her last breath.

Under that sky, I woke in the false dawn to the insistent buzz of my cellphone. I drove to the morgue, rubbing peppermint oil and vaseline under my nostrils in the frigid air of the parking lot. I took a moment to stare at the clouds, though it wasn't a night I was assigned to report. Usually a Cloudwatch took a half hour, not the scant half minute I afforded it, but I still ran through the standard questions in my mind.

What did you see during your Cloudwatch? Twisted limbs writhing in the sky, bruisedark and puffy against the otherly light. Ribbon ties and flasks. A closed door.

What did you feel during your Cloudwatch? Dread. A twist in my stomach. Resolve.

Do either of the answers above resonate with your daily life activities? Yes.

My answers to the first two questions changed. The last did not. For some, the clouds were only silly pictures. For others, like me, the Cloudwatch was omniscient, charged with personal meaning, like a tarot spread across a pinkish tablecloth. Some liked to tweet about their sights: Loved seeing my mom's face last night, just one more time. Anyone else keep seeing frogs? Saw a bunch of numbers tonight - lotto, here I come! I never shared my sights. I even resented the mandatory monthly reports, confidential though they promised to be. That night, I was especially glad I wouldn't have to write in those answers. They were darker than usual.

Snapping on a pair of latex plastic gloves, I greeted Ollie and Detective Lee. Ollie twitched, pulling at the collar of his paramedic uniform. I could tell he hated it here. "Sorry to call you out so late," Lee grumbled. "Usually we'd wait, but." I waited for him to finish his thought. Nothing further came.

"I um. I had to... try." Ollie stammered. "There'll be some of me on there, I expect. I forgot my gloves at first." Lee rolled his eyes.

"Where did you touch her?" I went to unzip the bag. Ollie blanched and I paused. "It's ok. You can just tell me."

"Fingers on neck. Hands on right ankle, maybe calf." I jotted some notes, and he hastened to explain. "I remembered after that."

"Fingerprints on file already?" I asked. He nodded. "Ok, good to know. Anything to add to our earlier chat, Detective Lee?"

"Nothing I can share right now. It's critical to know manner of death. Also should be checked for signs of assault."

"Noted. Would it be helpful to have an initial take before you leave?"

He checked his watch. "Whatever you can give me in ten minutes. Ollie, wait in the van. I'll need a ride back to my cruiser." With obvious relief, Ollie slunk from the room. Too soon, Detective Lee added "Kid's dumber 'n a sack of shit. Forgot his gloves, what a joke."

I unzipped the bag and began my inspection. "Dead no longer than two hours. Rigor has barely begun. Very cold, though. Blue in the extremities. I suspect hypothermia. No signs of frostbite. How long was she out there?"

"Unclear. No more than three hours, if some are to be believed."

"I could believe it, Detective. You'll have to wait for more precise calculations, but wind's high and water's cold tonight. If this is really all she wore - " I gestured at the bikini, polka dotted. Not unlike one I owned. I swallowed. "Excuse me. It could have been as little fifteen minutes."

He nodded. "If you could give me reason to get a warrant on some phones before the clouds are gone, it'd be a big help."

I checked my watch. "Maybe just. The only other guess I can give you right now is that there's no obvious signs of trauma. Or tearing."

"Small blessing. Though without DNA, maybe that just means I'm screwed instead." I couldn't find it in myself to give him a reproving glare. I couldn't look away from the girl's blue lips, smudged remains of lipstick in the corners.

"I'll need to begin the autopsy now, then." Understanding his dismissal, he brushed his hands together as though dusting them off.

"Call me when it's done." I bristled at his tone, but only nodded as he pushed through the swinging doors. Likely off to terrorize Ollie some more.

Just over two hours later, I tapped his number into the coroner's phone. "Time of death between midnight and 12:30AM, following exposure no longer than two hours. That's what I wrote in the report, and you'll need an expert to get closer than that in court, but my best guess is an hour tops."

"In court, huh? Any signs of trauma?" He sounded intrigued.

"No. She... she was a virgin. No signs of interference. There was some bruising up the sides of her hands, but it's still a little early for full presentation. But I think those bruises might be from hammering against a door, or something. Maybe a really bad fall, but then I'd expect some more along the arms or legs."

Detective Lee was quiet for a beat. "Why do you say door?"

"Well, you're going to laugh, but... I saw it in the clouds. A door. Closed." The air between the phones buzzed. I waited for his disdain.

"Hm. Can't put that in a report, unless it's for the CWA. Tell me more."

"A flask. Ties like on her swimsuit. Legs. Kinda frantic. I didn't look all that long."

"That's a shame," he said. "Think you really tuned into it tonight."

"Into what?" I asked him.

"Whatever it is. I get it too, sometimes." I wanted to ask more, but my words tangled in my throat. Despite the CWA's assurance that the import of meaning from the clouds was due to no definable characteristic or quality, I'd always had a feeling that it was empathy, or innately psychic tendencies, that got the most out of the clouds. But Detective Lee seemed just about as in touch with the sacred as a rock. There went that theory. "Well, those sights are certainly enough to tell a story. If it's a story I can prove, is another question. Why don't you go catch the end of them and see if you can get any more?"

I went back out to the parking lot, bundled in my parka, breath frosting the air. True dawn approached, yellow light building in the East. Wisps of clouds swirled above me, knitting together and whipping apart with a chill wind. I watched until they faded with the sunrise, but nothing came together.

Here is the story that Detective Lee pieced together with the autopsy, some cellphone footage, and the confession of one hapless teen: Mariah Heap went to a party with five girls she thought were her friends. Those girls talked her into a hot tub Cloudwatch, then pushed her in the unheated water and locked her on the porch. They filmed Mariah hammering on the door for a half hour, during which time Mariah began her journey into hypothermia. The girls went to heat some popcorn. They finished the popcorn. When they returned to the porch door, Mariah had disappeared, to be found shortly thereafter having crammed herself into a corner of the shed under the porch. She was dead. Overhead, the clouds danced with the blushing sky. No one sighted the clouds.