Cracking Up

Stand in the rain enough times staring at dead bodies and you might crack up like I did. I remember the case I’d been working on that day.

It was a stranger abduction. A young boy, Dana Rose had been reported missing. Some students had seen him pulled into a black Ford van. No description of the suspect other than, “a fat white guy with a black beard wearing white T shirt.”

That was pretty thin as leads go.

I talked to Dana’s mom and asked the tough questions. Did she know anybody that fit the description? Did the boy normally go off with strangers? No on all counts.

Late in the day, I caught a radio call, a traffic accident. A black Ford van.

I beat the traffic patrolman there by eight minutes.

The driver of the van fit the abductor’s description perfectly. He was trapped under the steering wheel, grinning at me. Behind him, the missing kid lay tied up and dead on the floor.

Standing there in the rain, I pulled my service revolver and shot the man in the head.

Honest, Doc. That’s all I remember.

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