Meltwater

Leaning against the patrol car, I drew deep from the Sonoma, watching CSIs fuss around the hastily-erected tent. They had tried, in vain, to get it up before the now heavy rain had washed away much of the forensics.

Read from the beginning

My unmarked car was parked further back, ready to take me and the rest of the evidence away. I threw down the cigarette, already extinguished and wet.

“Another gang killing, they’re saying,” said the patrolman whose squad car I was leaning against.

“I wouldn’t want to speculate,” I said dismissively, before walking away.

“We’ll need your clothing for evidence, lieutenant,” said a white-suited figure, indicating the crime-scene vehicle where he wanted me to change. If they’d thought about it sooner, before the rain had soaked me to the skin, they could have preserved a little more of their evidence. Then again, most had been removed when I'd ‘stumbled’ earlier in deep snow.

Having changed, and given my statement to an unknown young detective, I headed back to my car. Stevie was leaning into her own vehicle, stretching the radio cord to her ear, her eyes still ranging over the scene.

As I watched her in the rear view, she turned. I pulled the car away from the kerb. She ran after me, gesticulating wildly, dropping the handset. I continued at a relaxed pace, but not relaxed enough for her to catch up. She was the only one smart enough.

She’d send a patrol car to my home. They’d have to wait.

O ~ 0 ~ o

What will the patrol car officers find? And why would they have to wait?

Find out in part four: Chain of evidence