In Creative Corner, Short Stories

A body has been found.

I, Detective Constance Nkosi, loom over the body of a young female, dumped in a field near a quiet street. Between the smell and the state of the body a foul taste fills my mouth.

The forensics team scamper about, looking for any trace of her identity, and collecting everything they deem worthy of evidence. If only this part of the suburbs were taken care of. South Africa has really gone backwards. You can’t tell what’s evidence, and what’s trash.

Our medical examiner, Dr Veronica Crowley, is on her knees working tirelessly. I snap on my medical gloves. The first thing I notice is that there is not a shred of clothing on this poor girl.

Her long blonde hair is now matted and crusted with blood. Multiple patches of scalp can be seen. Her face is smashed in so badly to the point where she is unrecognizable. Broken skin and intense swelling clearly visible. Her throat brutally slit. There are several stab marks covering her broken body. Her chest area is violently mutilated. This suspect however likes to use a multitude of items to inflict this amount of torture.

Dr Veronica adjusts her legs for a closer look.

“This poor girl.” She sighed.

“Assaulted?” I enquire bitterly.

“Multiple times, with multiple items.” She was horrified.

“Jesus…” I ground out.

“Is it the same suspect?”

God, I hope it is…

“In my honest opinion, judging from all this mindless mutilation, yes.” She states.

I hold out my gloved hand which she graciously grabs, and I pull her up. We stand in silence staring at everything and everyone around us. Our little tradition.

I have known Veronica even before she landed the title. We were in the same high school. Once we graduated, I went off to pursue the military and I suppose she stayed behind to further her studies.

I curse loudly.

“Indeed.” She agreed.

This is a freaking nightmare.

Bodies of young children keep popping up wherever this individual goes. We have worked with other precincts in this country and established that the suspect prefers to target girls between the ages of 9 and 17.

 

We have set out curfews, warnings, posters, social media posts, the whole shebang and nothing changes. It’s as if the people who live in this damn place no longer care for their fellow man, or in this case, child. The list just keeps getting longer with not a single shred of info on this damn person.

On top of all the kidnappings and mutilations we are also dealing with random gunshot victims. These seem to be mainly males in their late twenties to early thirties. They are typically found lying in the street with multiple wounds. Probably drug related incidents.

After all, the individual we are after, seems to prefer to use everything but firearms. So, I highly doubt that he is responsible. There is just no way that these two cases can be related. The profile simply does not match.

“Let’s get this crime scene wrapped up, so we can get her identified.” I sigh.

“Yes, her family needs to be informed.” Veronica adds on.

“We will just leave out the gory details, as usual.”

Once she has been identified we usually reach out to the family to confirm her identity. I hate those moments. The despair of the family when they see the remains of someone they loved and cherished utterly decimates part of my soul.

With forensics running double time to process all the evidence, I am beyond frustrated. Bodies keep popping up and we do not even have a single drop of DNA to point us to our unsub.

“This effing case is running cold.” I ground out in the vehicle. My partner Detective Steve Willemse is crowding the passenger seat. He is a burly man. He has dark chocolate eyes with a matching bushy beard. In all honesty, the man looks like a fluffy bear. We have been partners for over ten years.

Taking a turn, two cars fly past us.

“JESUS!” I yell, swerving out of the way.

Filled with adrenaline I flung on the sirens and take chase. Before long we spot METRO in the distance which flags off the car closest to us, the other speeding off into the distance.

“Good.” I mutter. The bastard deserved it.

“Wait, hold up.” Steve states next to me.

“What’s up?” I ask curiously.

“Something is not right, pull over.” He states, his eyes darkened.

“Gut?”

“Gut.”

Pulling in behind the car I can see that the cop and the driver are in a heated discussion. The driver is almost hysterical. Metro spots me and heads back to his car. Shouting his gratitude for the world to hear.

“What seems to be the problem?” I enquire.

“My daughter…” the man sobs.

“Talk to me sir.” I try to urge.

“My daughter has just been kidnapped.”

I reach into my pocket and take out my dishevelled notebook. “Tell me everything.”

“My ten-year-old daughter, Amira, was playing outside. A silver BMW pulled up, a man jumped out and grabbed her, then they sped off.” Tears flow down his face. “I jumped in my car and followed them.”

“I will get a bolo out.” Steve stated while he rushes to our vehicle.

“I will need your contact details.” I need more info, but I will have to get that on the way. This cannot wait. I quickly scribble down his details.

“We will do our utmost best to find her.” I promise half-heartedly.

A call comes in soon after and we frantically speed to the warehouse where a similar car was spotted.

The evening sky lights up with a variety of flashing lights. I hope this is it.

“This better be him.” I spat.

Our morale will not survive another dead end.

“Look over there.” Steve points at something lying in the road.

“Looks like a GSW, we should call it in.”

Steve gets on his radio. With my sirens blaring I rush to join the rest of the entourage.  Time is of the essence and that poor girl, if she is still alive, won’t be for much longer.

“We will provide backup” One of our patrollers states as the two of us hop out of the car.

“Let’s take this man down.” I command before barging in.

Checking floor by floor, we manage to find our unsub. He is a middle-aged white man with a psychotic look on his face. A young girl screaming in his grasp. Blood pooling on the floor below the two of them. Bastard.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” the deranged man complains.

“Drop your weapon and let her go!” Steve commands.

“No, I don’t think I will.” The man states before pushing his knife into her side smiling crazily.

“Girls…” He grinds out. “They flaunt around as if they own the world. Taunting men to become sinners.”

“DROP YOUR WEAPON!” I command.

“You know, the voices don’t like them either. They want them dead.”

What the hell is he on about.

“You are insane!” someone yells from the back.

“I am not insane;” His face filled with rage, “I am merely following orders.”

I’m getting rather fed up with this whole situation, so I aim for his leg and let one loose from the chamber. As the man doubles over in pain he loses his grip on the girl and we all pounce, trying to detain him.

“No, you can’t do this! She deserves to die! They all do!” He screams while frantically trying to reach for his knife.

A cop manages to grab the girl, and carry her off to safety, while Steve manhandles the suspect to get him cuffed. I snap on some gloves to gather up all his tools which I bag for evidence. Thank goodness I brought extra gloves with me.

“Get him out of here, I will call in a forensic team” I order. With a nod he drags the man out of sight.

“I can’t believe this is finally over.” I sigh deeply.

His reason for killing them is beyond insane, that will not hold up in court. I grab hold of my radio and call it in, we need everyone here to process this scene.

The moment I get off my radio I hear a single gunshot.

Shocked I grab my radio. “What the hell is going on? Copy!” I keep yelling hoping for a response from my partner.

Fear consumes me as I wait impatiently.

“It’s the girl’s father.” I hear Steve on the other end breathing frantically. “The suspect has been assassinated.”

Lord, give me strength.

“Detained?” I ask.

“Unarmed and detained.” Steve confirms.

Bloody idiot just ruined his life and gave me more damn paperwork.

 

Micah Angel

Micah Angel is a pseudonym used by writer and author Michelle Engelbrecht. Michelle lives in South Africa with her mom and a large variety of pets. She has plenty of hobbies such as gaming, crochet and reading. A lot of her inspiration comes from the fantasy-based games she plays and the wide variety of television shows that she watches with her mother. Her favourite genres at this current moment are romance, thriller, horror, action, fantasy and paranormal. She wrote her first novel A Barbarians Rage back in 2022 which was officially published in 2024.

 

 

This Short Story was published in the August 2024 edition of the WSA magazine. Please click here to download.

Read – My Case is Different – A Short Story by Celestine S Reuben – Nigeria

 

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When Obsession Turns to Murder – A Short Story by Micah Angel – South Africa

Time to read: 6 min
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Creative Expression