Untitled-New Writing

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“Have a nice day.”  The store clerk mumbled to the busy mother who, oddly enough, had no kids with her today.  
“Thanks.”  A slurred word spilled out of her mouth.  She seemed half asleep, yet no one noticed, since this was her normal state.  Grabbing her bags she stumbled out of the store.  Running into a garbage can and then into a pedestrian.  She said her sorry to the can and ran to her car in a hurry.  Avoiding the whole back end of her car she hopped into the front seat.  Sighing she backed out of the spot and she turned into the parking lot.  Her driving jumpy and her hands shaking she got to the road.  Little did the mother know another was speeding towards her.

“Shut up!”  He screamed at the teenage girl in the passenger seat.  The bird was flipped his way and he slammed on the brakes.  His brown hair fell into his face, blurring his vision of the road.  He didn’t care.  Neither did she, for her arms crossed and her foot tapped to the beat of the music blaring.  
Of course there was a reason why they were acting like this.  Earlier there was a problem with money.  Their bank closed all accounts.  Well more like the guy closed them.  For the girl had stolen her fiancés card number, and was using it for her advantage.  Using it to get back at him, for cheating on her the day after they got engaged.  
Now they were in his car.  Driving home, arguing, and ignoring each other.  Oh, and ignoring the road.  They neared a intersection.  The girl looked up from her hands and screamed.  “Chris stop!”

Five people standing in shock.  Two cars.  Four people in the accident.  Three of which, dead.  One of the men watched a medic take the young girl to the ambulance.  Clean her wounds from the glass and wrap her wrist with cloth.  He walked over to her, the medic nodded and left.  “So sorry about your hand.”  She nodded and looked down at the ground.  “What's your name?”
“Rebecca Ingrine.”  Her eyes drifted back up to the man in front of her, who politely smiled.
“I am Robert.”  Robert stuck out his hand for her to shake.  She weakly shook it and quickly snatched her hand back.  “What happened?”
“Chris was driving the car.  I guess he wasn’t looking.  That lady was pulling out onto the street.”  Rebecca cleared her throat and went on.  “We ran into her, simple enough.”
“And this Chris was your fiancé?”  He was taking notes, but he felt Rebecca’s glare land on him.  
“Yes.”  Her voice was hard, and she looked to the ground again.  Black hair falling onto her face.
“Thanks.”  Robert nodded and walked back over to Ted, another csi.  Ted laughed as Robert gave him a weird look.

Tori stared intently into the trunk of the car.  Inside lay a small boy.  ‘About eight years old.  Four feet, can’t tell the estimated inches at the moment.  Dark blonde hair.  Blue eyes.’  She wrote into her notebook.  Her eyes caught sight of a hammer farther back into the trunk, with traces of blood on it.  Putting on gloves Tori reached back and picked it up, setting it into a bag then into a box like container.  
She couldn’t really believe this.  This child looked exactly like the woman in the front seat, except her hair was a bright auburn color.  Who was dead also.  Yet it seemed like the kid was dead longer than her.  Her stomach churned at the thought, then she shook it away.  The child seemed to be killed by a blow to the head and stomach.  Tori moved to the front seat of the car and looked at the mother.  A piece of glass through her head, and drug on her breath.  Bottle of tonic on the front seat.  A bag of clothes on the back seat.  
Tucking her notebook into her bag she walked over to Ted and Robert.  She shook her head in sadness then glanced over at Damian.  He was examining the other car.

“Oh my god.”  Damian looked down at the hispanic in the drivers seat.  He moved the mans arm slightly.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”  The tattoo on his arm matched the other mans exactly.  “That's still happening?”  His voice cracked and he sighed.  
Damian was talking about a gang.  A gang of hispanics, who periodically meet each other.  They kill, feed on other pain, to make up for their own.  He used to be in it.  It was a bad place for kids to be.  But when kids had no family to care about them, that's where they went.  Disappointment is what his mother felt when she found out.  Like he cared then? No.  Now?  Maybe.  Others like him got arrested, but he never killed.  He couldn’t bring his heart to do it.  Yet he had always had a fascination with the dead. . .

“Hello?”  The man spoke into the phone.  “What?”  His eyes widened in suprise.  “Mary’s dead?  Car accident?”  He paused.  “What did you say about Robbie?”  The phone dropped from his hand.  Stumbling backwards he shook his head.  “No, it can’t be true.”  He whispered to himself.  Feet dragged to the car keys, then to the car.  Then feet stopped long enough to get to the hospital.
He jumped out of his car and ran to the huge white and blue building.  He bounded through the door to the front desk.  Out of breath he started to talk.  “I need to know where the morgue is.  I need to verify a body.”  Words spilled out into the air to the receptionist.  
“I need to know your name.”  The woman told him, her gaze still on the flashing computer screen in front of her.
“Anthony Stone.”  He said, a little impatient now, because he knew his wife and son were dead.
“Ok, three doors to your right, then down that hall.  It will be the last one on your left.”  She said with a smile then a, “Sorry for your loss.”  Anthony nodded and hurried off down the hall.

“He’s eight years old.  Four foot five.  Sixty three pounds.”  The morgue stated grimly.  “Gouge wound in the stomach with what looks to be a metal poll.  Indent in the head.  About two inches long yet five inches wide.”
“Could be a sledge hammer.”  Tori suggested.  Then she shook her head.  “So sad.  Such a young boy.”
“Yes.  And it looks like he put up a fight.”  He lifted the boys hand and showed her his nails.  “Human flesh and dirt.”  A knock on the door interrupted them.  “Come in.”  A slender man with blonde hair like the child came into the room.  When he caught sight of the child he burst into tears.  
“Oh Robbie!”  He sobbed and walked over to the kid and brushed back his hair.
“So are you saying this kid is your son?”  Tori asked him.
“What do you think?!”  Anthony snapped.  “His name is Robbie Stone.  Not just kid.”  His eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at her.
“Sorry.”  She mumbled her back stiff as a board.
“He died by two blows.  One to the stomach and one to the head.  He was found in your wife's trunk.”  The morgue said.  “I am Mark, by the way, and that is Tori.”
“Oh my god.”  Anthony closed his eyes.  “I am Anthony Stone.  Who would do this to just a child.”
“I asked myself the same question.”  Tori said.
“Don’t tell me you will be working on this case.”  He snapped at her.
“Actually, me and Robert, Ted, and Damian.”  
“Well at least its not just you.”  Anthony practically yelled.  “Will you leave me alone with my dead son for a moment!”
“Yes.”  Tori and Mark started for the door.
“Wait a second where is my wife?”  He asked them before they left the room.
“I am sorry, we have to evaluate her before you can see her.” Mark lied and left the room.  Really he couldn’t see her, because they lost the body. . .

“How could this happen?!”  Ted screamed as he drove back and forth down the roads they had to take before they got to the hospital.  “How do you lose a full grown woman's body?”  Robert shook his head.
“Unsure.  There has to be a reason for this.”  His brown eyes scanned the hills incase she fell out.  This was the first time in years since they lost a body before they got to the hospital.  “Could there be a time where we weren’t watching the car?”
“Shoot, no Robert.  There was at least twenty people there the whole time!”  Ted swore some more under his breath.  “This is impossible.”  He whispered.  “I can’t believe we lost a body.”

Damian looked up from his desk.  There stood Rebecca Ingrine, in a pink pair of pants, brown shirt, and black wedges.  Looking extremely happy, considering the fact her fiancé was dead. “Hello.  How may I help you?”  Damian asked his voice low and his eyes back down at his paper.
“No one cares that he’s dead, you know.”  She stated bluntly.  her voice had a sting in it, as if she wanted it to hurt him.
“What do you mean?”  He asked her. “I don’t understand.”
“People are actually happy he’s dead.  I am one of them.”  Rebecca’s eyes narrowed.  “Do you even know what he did to them?  Do you know how much pain he caused to them?”
“Well, no, but.”  Damian shook his head at the disbelief in his mind.  ‘Not again.’ He thought.
“He killed them.  All of them.  Oh, yes, they took his word though.  Everybody said,  ‘Chris is such a good boy.  You are lucky to be his fiancé.’ But they were wrong.  Oh you don’t know how wrong they were.”  Her lips were a straight line and her head shook as she talked.  Damian was speechless.  
“I need you to leave.  Or else I will call security.”  
“Oh the poor little Damian is scared of little old me.”
“Get OUT!”  He yelled, standing and pointing to the door.
“Fine.  But remember what I said about Chris.”  With that Rebecca and her pink pants strutted out of the room, a grin on her face, slamming the door behind her.