Chapter VI
Eighty-three year old Sue Anne Louis went outside of her two story red brick house for her afternoon walk like she had every afternoon since her husband passed away. She stepped out on her neat and tidy lawn, which was always trimmed short by the local lawn mowing service. This afternoon seemed no different than the countless others that she had witnessed in her long life thus far. But this afternoon was very different. And she was about to find out why.
She turned left on her sidewalk, and headed toward Six Mile Road, which was at least a half of a mile away from her. A short way down the sidewalk, she saw what looked like a boy lying face down on the cement. She increased her speed toward him, and called out to him.
"Young man, are you alright?" she hoped that he had only passed out. When she got no response, she called out again.
When she reached the boy, all of the color drained out of her face. The boy was lying face down in a pool of blood. She gasped, and tried not to vomit. It was no use, and she threw up all over the sidewalk.
Fifteen minutes later an ambulance arrived, and rushed the boy to St. Mary's hospital.
This was David Corwin's first week as a paramedic, and already he had seen three homicides. After all of the countless nights of studying, staying awake until 3:00 A.M., trying his hardest to pass every single test, he is now reconsidering his choice of careers.
He knew there was no chance of saving the boy in the back of the ambulance, and that scared the hell out of him. He wondered how he could do this job when losing one patient bothered him so much.
His partner, Bill Warren, didn't seem to be taking it very well either.
"So young....." Bill whispered to himself.
"I know, man, I know," Dave said.
Seconds later Bill pulled up to the hospital and he and Dave jumped out of the ambulance.
They rushed the boy in, and he was pronounced dead by Dr. Francis Watson. Dave new there was nothing he could do, but he still felt terrible.
An hour later, Dave decided to take the rest of the day off.
When he got home, a message was on his answering machine.
"Hey babe, it's Tyler. Come on over when you get this. I really miss you. Love you. See you soon."
Dave smiled for the first time all day. He contemplated whether or not to pick up the phone and let him know that he was on his way, but he finally decided that surprise was the best method.
Dave climbed into his jet black 1969 Dodge Charger and set off for Tyler's apartment. Despite Dave's somewhat reckless attitude, one thing he takes complete pride in is his car. He worked countless hours of overtime to be able to afford it, and there was not a scratch on it. At times when he is upset, he polishes his Mustang. It was going to get a new coat of wax tonight.
He pulled into the small parking lot in front of Tyler's building. He climbed out, and to his surprise, Tyler was waiting on him.
Tyler had a look of relief and joy on his face.
"What took you so long? I've been waiting over an hour!" he said. He tried to keep a serious expression on his face, but failed. Tyler was tall, about six feet tall. He had brown hair, which he kept spiked, and the tips bleached to give it a slightly fiery effect. He was very slim, and he had a boyish face. He had deep, sparkling blue eyes.
Dave quickly made sure that no one was watching, and pulled Tyler into a tight hug.
"Now, we cant have any of that. At least, not in public," he winked.
They walked into the building, and as soon as the door closed, Tyler pulled him into a tight embrace, kissing him fiercely. But Dave was too emotionally drained from the events of the morning. Tyler knew something was wrong immediately.
"What's wrong, babe?" Tyler asked with concern in his voice.
"It's been another day from Hell," Dave said, "Another homicide. Same killer."
Tyler hugged him sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I hope they catch this asshole. But lets not let this ruin our fun. Lets go out to eat."
After a few hours in the most expensive restaurant they could afford, Dave finally started to feel better.
Stan and Brian arrived at the scene moments after the paramedics rushed the boy to the hospital. Stan walked up to John Richardson. Stan did not look pleased.
"Richardson, where was the boy taken? And why was he moved before forensics could look at him?" Stan said with an obvious edge to his voice.
"Forensics got here before I did. They had a quick look at him, and left. The coroner was too busy, so I figured that it would take less time to transport him to St. Mary's. The autopsy will be done there. Any more questions?" Richardson said in an annoyed tone of voice.
"Yeah, why wasn't I notified right away? I am heading up the Vindicator investigation," Stan said.
"I had to consider the integrity of the scene. We don't want to scare the neighbors. We need to keep this out of front page news as long as possible. We can't create a panic. I was faced with a problem, and I made a decision," Richardson was now face to face with Stan. He was literally yelling in his face.
"I am leading this investigation. Every decision goes through me. You wanna wipe your ass, it goes through me," Stan yelled back.
"Look, Davis, I don't care about your little ego trip. The only reason you are even on this case is because of the nature of the crime," he replied.
"You're off this case," Stan said coldly. "Get back to the office." He turned and walked away. Richardson yelled after him, but Stan didn't reply. He began questioning Miss Sue Anne Louis.
That's it for chapter 6. please e-mail me with any questions, comments or concerns.
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