This is a short story which I never succeeded in placing, written approximately a year before I wrote The 37th Hour. At the time, I thought I might write crime fiction with a subtle supernatural aspect, or crime/horror crossover novels. That’s reflected in the themes you’ll find here.
His skin was the color of eggshells. Of paper. He’d been exsanguinated.
The call came in around 6:45 a.m. A runner found the body. Joggers find so many things for us in law enforcement. Them and hikers.
The body of a young white male, the report said, seen in the blackberry bushes that overran a slope leading down to a creek. The first patrol officer on the scene didn’t disturb anything, just took one good look and called for a detective and a crime-scene unit. We later realized that his assiduousness nearly cost the victim his life.Continue reading The Field of Flowers