The sound of rain pattering on the windows and hammering on the wet street outside was just loud enough to be heard above the din of the station, a summer storm that had been brooding behind a thick veil of grey cloud that eventually accumulated into blackness and turned the day into night, announcing its arrival with an apocalyptic clap of thunder.
Officer Devine sat back in her chair and proof read her report, sipping hot black coffee. She enjoyed the sound of the rain, found it soothing; it helped her think. Her brow furrowed as she thought back on the events of the past week; a string of violent killings and assaults that had happened as suddenly as the thunderstorm, not just gang turf wars but involving seemingly random victims all over town.
It wasn’t random though, not entirely. It was because of sugar, the latest craze. All the cool kids were doing it these days, it seemed to be everywhere. Little glass vials of amphetamine that got you real high, real quick; hell of a come-down though. They’d carried out a couple of raids, shut down what they thought was a fairly large lab, but there had always been more.
Until recently anyway.
A voice woke her from her reverie, it was Sergeant Miller. “Devine, there’s been another murder, down on Seventh. Get your shit together and let’s go.”
They arrived at the crime scene twenty minutes later. The area had been taped off and forensics were taking photos of the body, picking up tiny fragments of glass with tweezers and bagging them for examination back at the lab. It was a woman; she was only dressed in jeans and a t-shirt so this happened during the day, or her body was dumped here. Miller stuck his hands in the pockets of his trench coat and looked down at the body, sprawled out on the sidewalk with a look of horror on her bloodless face.
“What a fucking mess.” he said, emphatically.
Devine snapped a latex glove on her right hand, crouched down and raised the t-shirt on the woman’s corpse, checking for wounds. There was a hole below her ribs, looked like she was stabbed with a large knife. She stood up and looked over at one of the lab boys who was sealing up a plastic bag. “Hey, where’s the glass from?”
“Figured as much.”
“You seen her before Devine?” asked Miller.
“Lilly Shepherd. She worked these streets, always getting into trouble so she was a good snitch; easy to keep under your thumb, you know? Pissed off a lot of people, but she wouldn’t be worth killing unless she knew something; heard something she shouldn’t have or saw somebody who didn’t want to be seen. Ordinarily that is. Poor bitch; killed over some fucking sugar.”
“Well shit. A dead whore. Alright, it’s all yours Devine. Do the usual, you know the routine. Report on my desk by Monday.” With that, the sergeant sauntered off back to the car.
Based on a prompt from CreativeWritingPrompts.com