blood volume rapidly dropped. Unable to move, Anna simply sighed in defeat, her eyes bulging at the inevitability of her own death, sadness filling her head at the way her life had been taken from her as one last breath gurgled from her throat.
He was smiling as he grabbed his things, a little tense that her call might have been received. This was confirmed when he heard sirens in the distance. He fumbled with the zip of his bag as it jammed preventing it from closing. “Fuck!” he exclaimed in anger and frustration. He threw the bag away and climbed up over the rear fence, knowing the cops would go to the front door first. He knew where he was going and the route he must take to avoid any attention or trail.
Officers arrived a minute after John had left the scene; the dispatcher had had the foresight to have a free dog van sent there as well, and as the first officers at the scene shouted through the letter box, the dog handler and his dog went round the back, the dog barking furiously towards the rear fence, a scent driving it crazy. The two officers at the front made a quick decision to force the door. They had already brought the equipment from the car, and started to swing the ram at the door. It took several attempts to break it open as it was a solid wood door. On entry they turned on the lights, checking the living room first and then the hallway. There were signs of a disturbance leading to the kitchen, and once there both stopped dead in their tracks. The scene before them was horrific, like something from a horror movie. Blood was spattered all around the room, and on the floor was a small framed woman drenched in blood with a gaping wound to the front of her neck. They raced towards her and dropped to their knees to check for signs of life, shouting to the cop in the garden that there was a body inside. “She’s still warm. I’m calling an ambulance. He can’t have had that much time to get far.” They began CPR, hoping and praying there was a chance although the injury and the blood told its own story. Every compression created a fresh spurt of blood from Anna’s neck; the officers did not bother about the blood covering the woman’s face, they just wanted to save her.
The dog handler had found the bag and the dog took a deep sniff at it. It growled towards the back door and made for therear fence. The handler lifted the dog over into the next garden with the extended lead on and, following her over, they sped on to the next garden and the next, eventually coming to a high brick wall. The handler looked up. “No fucking way did he get up that!” The dog pulled towards an open gate that led to the road; there were still people about and the dog had to remain on the lead for their safety, unable to differentiate between good and bad people. It ran up the street for a further fifty metres, nose to the ground, stopping dead at another garden, high fenced with spikes on the top, a jacket strewn over them to prevent injury, a sign that this was where he had gone. There was no other way through so they made their way to the other side of the vast property and garden. A gate to the rear opened into the street. The dog stopped. The street was a thoroughfare to the town and at least five or six people had just walked down it, spoiling the scent and confusing the dog.
“Fuck! Fucking lucky bastard. Good effort girl,” the handler said as he leant down to praise his dog.
Out of breath, John crouched down further along the road, watching the copper look around him, the dog circling on the lead. He thought to himself,
fuck me, that was close, too fucking close!
He knew that scent could be spoilt by others walking over it. Luckily for him the bars in town created a constant flow of pedestrians in the area at that time of night. He stayed put as the sound of sirens filled the air. He knew the streets would be searched by numerous police vehicles passing by; he couldn’t risk being seen this close to the scene,
He was smiling as he grabbed his things, a little tense that her call might have been received. This was confirmed when he heard sirens in the distance. He fumbled with the zip of his bag as it jammed preventing it from closing. “Fuck!” he exclaimed in anger and frustration. He threw the bag away and climbed up over the rear fence, knowing the cops would go to the front door first. He knew where he was going and the route he must take to avoid any attention or trail.
Officers arrived a minute after John had left the scene; the dispatcher had had the foresight to have a free dog van sent there as well, and as the first officers at the scene shouted through the letter box, the dog handler and his dog went round the back, the dog barking furiously towards the rear fence, a scent driving it crazy. The two officers at the front made a quick decision to force the door. They had already brought the equipment from the car, and started to swing the ram at the door. It took several attempts to break it open as it was a solid wood door. On entry they turned on the lights, checking the living room first and then the hallway. There were signs of a disturbance leading to the kitchen, and once there both stopped dead in their tracks. The scene before them was horrific, like something from a horror movie. Blood was spattered all around the room, and on the floor was a small framed woman drenched in blood with a gaping wound to the front of her neck. They raced towards her and dropped to their knees to check for signs of life, shouting to the cop in the garden that there was a body inside. “She’s still warm. I’m calling an ambulance. He can’t have had that much time to get far.” They began CPR, hoping and praying there was a chance although the injury and the blood told its own story. Every compression created a fresh spurt of blood from Anna’s neck; the officers did not bother about the blood covering the woman’s face, they just wanted to save her.
The dog handler had found the bag and the dog took a deep sniff at it. It growled towards the back door and made for therear fence. The handler lifted the dog over into the next garden with the extended lead on and, following her over, they sped on to the next garden and the next, eventually coming to a high brick wall. The handler looked up. “No fucking way did he get up that!” The dog pulled towards an open gate that led to the road; there were still people about and the dog had to remain on the lead for their safety, unable to differentiate between good and bad people. It ran up the street for a further fifty metres, nose to the ground, stopping dead at another garden, high fenced with spikes on the top, a jacket strewn over them to prevent injury, a sign that this was where he had gone. There was no other way through so they made their way to the other side of the vast property and garden. A gate to the rear opened into the street. The dog stopped. The street was a thoroughfare to the town and at least five or six people had just walked down it, spoiling the scent and confusing the dog.
“Fuck! Fucking lucky bastard. Good effort girl,” the handler said as he leant down to praise his dog.
Out of breath, John crouched down further along the road, watching the copper look around him, the dog circling on the lead. He thought to himself,
fuck me, that was close, too fucking close!
He knew that scent could be spoilt by others walking over it. Luckily for him the bars in town created a constant flow of pedestrians in the area at that time of night. He stayed put as the sound of sirens filled the air. He knew the streets would be searched by numerous police vehicles passing by; he couldn’t risk being seen this close to the scene,
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