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Writer's pictureMark Sanders

Chapter Five: Harbinger

Blogtober 2023

“That’s not possible,” Clarkton said. “Someone didn’t roll up and replace his blood with Pennzoil.”


“It’s not oil, either, if that’s what you mean,” Nicole said. “I won’t know what it is until I run it through the lab, but this is not human blood.”


“Tell Charley this is top priority,” Clarkton said. “Call me if he has any objections.”


“That won’t be a problem, sir,” Nicole said. “I want to know what this is as much as you do.”


The gaggle of deputies deposited Tippen’s body onto the coroner’s gurney and slid it into the hearse. As she left, Clarkton ordered the other officers to gather their things and head out.


“Stay with me,” Clarkton said to Murphy, and they watched until they were the only ones left on the scene.


“What do you think, Murph?”


“I don’t know what to think, Joe,” Murphy said. He could get away with “Joe” when no one else was around. “White eyes, black blood, Iron Mike acting like a scared puppy. My gran would say it was all bad omens.”


“I don’t believe in omens, signs, or harbingers,” Clarkton said. “That voodoo nonsense has no place in a crime investigation. We deal in hard evidence, nothing else.”


“What does the evidence say?”


“We’ve got a lot to do,” Clarkton said. “You want to work this case with me?”


The men jumped as all four tires on Tippen’s truck blew out at once.


“Do I have a choice?”


“Of course not. Let’s go.”


Photo credit Adobe Stock #644593228

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