Crimson

Chapter 5

Isa

Just as I closed my eyes, the violent buzzing of my phone brought me to attention. Without looking at the ID, I answered "Knight." My voice was slightly hoarse, but the voice on the other end didn't seem to notice. "Looks like we have a case, Sleeping Beauty. Meet me at Randolph Johnson Memorial Park. Johnston and Stockholm are securing the scene as I'm speaking," Chris said. I could hear the subtle purr of his car's engine. My guess was that he was en route. We had a bit of a dry spell at the department causing us to begin working a few cold cases. Most of the time, those cases would end up leading to a dead-end forcing the officer on duty to mark it unsolved until new leads arise. Although he did give the cases their due diligence, Chris preferred the thrill of a homicide investigation where his mind could be challenged. His mind worked fast, and I told him on several occasions that he should consider a career that would appreciate his skillset. And, every time he said that his place was here in Beaufort. There weren't too many I knew of that would stay home and be chomping at the bits to climb the ranks. Chris was different. He had an outstanding amount of patience. It was probably why he had the highest solve rate in the department.

I knew that he was pleased to have a live case to work. However, I did not hold the same sentiment. Although we are often advised to not take these cases to heart, I found it to be a difficult feat because I often thought of how the victim could have easily been someone I knew. Of course, each case received the utmost professionalism, but they each had a piece of me embedded in the investigation. That's what probably made me an adequate detective. Rubbing my eyes, I flatly replied, "I'll be there shortly." "See you then," Chris said before clicking off. I looked over at the alarm clock on my nightstand, it was close to a quarter past one in the morning. My feet touched the cool floor, and I made a beeline to my closet pulling out jeans and a t-shirt. I quickly changed and put on my side holster. Doing a quick sweep of my room, I grabbed my creds and left. The cool air of the night hit me as I got into my car, so I turned on the heat in my car. My car was a navy blue '01 Cherokee XJ left to me by my grandfather. No one really knew the power that these trucks had, and I relished at the astonished looks as I raced down Live Oak St. I was there in four minutes and pulled on my latex gloves before stepping out of my car. Standing at the tape was Johnston who was talking with a deputy.

Johnston had a lean five-foot eleven-inch frame, fair skin, deep-set piercing eyes as dark as a black hole, slicked-back pompadour raven hair, and a square-shaped face that had a well-groomed goatee. I never had any problems with Johnston, and he always treated female officers, including me, with respect. He was a rather nice coworker who held his own and often liked to work alone without being badgered by Stockholm, his partner, who was the definition of a headache. It was a wonder how the two managed to work together for so long. Stockholm was everything that Johnston wasn't: arrogant, flirtatious, boisterous, condescending. Stockholm barely skimmed over five-foot-ten, had smoldering hazel eyes, tanned olive skin, a clean defined heart-shaped face, the body of an Adonis, and cropped chestnut brown hair. He was quite attractive, but his personality left a lot to be desired. After a while, most found him to be a total prick and preferred to not be around him. Along with that, Stockholm was one of those misogynistic assholes that had zero respect for women of his trade. Despite his many "admirable" traits, Stockholm knew what he was doing which was the only reason I  and others had to tolerate him.

"Johnston," I said by way of greeting nodding my head in acknowledgment. He nodded back. Over in the distance, I saw Chris talking to Stockholm which was a godsend because that meant I got to debrief with Johnston. As soon as he was done with the deputy, he joined me.  Turning to him, I said, "Talk to me." "Knight, we've got ourselves a doozy. LT is here," Johnston began. My eyebrows raised in surprise as I said, "You're right, Johnston. It must be a doozy if Caldwell is on the scene." Caldwell was only four years away from retirement and wasn't active on cases. He gave thirty-three years to the department and had transitioned into politics with his sights set on captain before he goes. His presence told me that this case was either high-profile or personal. In a small town like this, it was very likely that it was personal. The wheels were turning in my head before I even saw the body. Part of me dreaded seeing the body, but I knew there was no way to be an effective detective without examining the body myself. I pinched the bridge of my nose with my index finger and thumb to delay the onset of an impending tension headache.