The old electrical plant used to be a large warehouse like structure that housed various generators designed to produce massive volts of energy to support a sector of the big city. In its prime, it would power traffic lights, shops, houses, even high rise apartments like a boss.
Sadly, those were the good old days. Now with the solar and wind energy plants rolling into the neighbourhood – the turf – the new and young greener economy started to force the old school generators to shut down. Only a few of their brethren survived, the rest of the electrical veterans would then be auctioned off at courts, become the next place for a haunting stream, or a stage to film a post-apocalyptic YouTube film.
Their interiors have been hollowed out. No machines, no capacitors, not even folding chairs, all gone, stripped bare. The only thing filling up the empty spaces were the homeless taking refuge across every floor, each of them marking their own territory and keeping their ‘treasures’ close by. The squatters keep to themselves, or else they have a rifle pointed at their faces.
Sergeant Leo and Constable McLamb extended their search to near the electrical plant. They kept their distance from the various homeless people sleeping in their tents or drying out their clothing around a dumpster can filled with fire.
“Sarge—er Leo would the killer really come this far with body parts?” McLamb asked, slapping a mosquito off his cheek. Sadly he missed.
“As you can see,” Leo reached out a hand to touch the tall grass around them, “the foliage is taller than my chest. Crouching in the night when people are asleep, it’s pretty easy if you ask me. I doubt the killer would carry all the bags together in one go.”
“Right, they’re heavy...wait, Leo,” McLamb holds up a hand with wide eyes, “Each body part are chopped. Even without the head or pelvis, if you put them together they’re would weigh roughly 40 or 50 pounds right?”
“...Hmm...” Understanding his partner’s line of thought Leo nodded, “If the killer moved them one by one from the driveway to this area, there would be multiple random trails. We just found the one that lead to the torso. Each piece was in their own bag, that’s like carrying multiple shopping bags in one hand. Would the murderer be really that stupid to haul all of them. What if the bag broke?”
“The bags we found were doubled up, Sarg--er ahem.”
Leo tapped his chin, “...Definitely not a crime of opportunity or in the spur of the moment. The murderer thought this through. Cut up the pieces, remove the ones police can track a face to, and prepare bags thick enough to make sure the body doesn't split apart when pooled with flesh and blood. Then they...McLamb look!”
The Sergeant patted his hand across the Constable’s shoulder and pointed ahead. They spotted a homeless man with a grizzly and tangled long beard, pushing an old shopping cart full of cardboard. At a glance one of them had a series of red paint like dots the size of a golf ball caked across the brown surface.
“Excuse me, sir!” McLamb called out. The homeless man with the shopping cart jumped and turned to see both officers coming over. He tried to escape, but McLamb sprung ahead to block him off, hands raised to his shoulder to show no hostility, “Sorry sir, we have a question. Did you.....”
McLamb trailed off. The man was making noises, shaking his head and pointing at his mouth. Both officers could see he had no tongue.
“Er. Where did you get this?” McLamb would pinch the ‘cleanest’ corner of the cardboard paper with the blood stain. The homeless man hesitated, shuffling to the side. Gripping his pile of cardboard he would gesture his head and hand to point off in the West direction. “Thank you, come on Leo!”
Leo was already running towards the direction before McLamb called. The Sergeant would then stagger to a halt when he reached a ravine. Along the way were a series of cardboard boxes, food wrappers, and thick plastic packaging to carry long wooden planks.
It was faint, but he spotted a series of blood that trailed to the edge of the ravine. He peeked over, eyes widening.
“McLamb. My car. Get an evidence bag and some gloves. Go!”
“...YES SIR!”
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