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Jackson pointed toward the charred ground ahead. “Hey, Turk, take a look at this. Looks like something's been burning here recently. Kids setting a campfire maybe?”
Turk's expression shifted, a frown forming as he examined the scorched earth. “Could be kids. But we couldn’t find the place easily, and we’re experienced hikers… Look how many hikes it took us to find it.” He pressed his lips together. “I’ve got an odd feeling. We haven’t had lightning. These ruins have nothing left to burn; no way there should be a fire here now. Wonder what caused this.”
As they cautiously approached, their steps grew more deliberate. They scanned the area for any signs of recent activity. Among the remnants of the burn marks, they noticed an unsettling pattern—a disturbance amidst the rubble.
“Do you see that, Jackson?” Turk's voice lowered, a note of concern creeping in. “It's like someone's been digging around here, right where the fire was.”
Jackson nodded, his senses on high alert as they carefully inspected the disturbed earth. “Yeah, looks like someone was trying to find something—or worse, hide something.”
“This doesn’t feel right.” Turk glanced at Jackson, mirroring the concern in his friend’s eyes.
Jackson hesitated, weighing their options. “We need to go slowly.” He knelt down and began sweeping the area with his gloved hand. “Please don’t be what I think this is.”
With a shared nod, they continued to explore, their motions deliberate and senses heightened. Jackson swept away fallen leaves to expose a patch of freshly scorched earth.
The air changed, and the smell was all too familiar. Below the freshly fallen leaves and the remnants of the recent burn, they made a grim discovery—a badly burned, decomposed body hidden within the ashes and debris.
Turk's fingers fumbled momentarily with the radio on his belt, his movements quick and purposeful as he tuned it to the emergency channel. “Dispatch, this is Turk Crenshaw, Captain at the Waverly Junction Fire Department, Station 3. We've found... um, we have a Code 1. Requesting immediate police assistance, over.”
Crackling static filled the air as Turk awaited a response, his gaze flickering between the device in his hand and the somber scene in front of them. Meanwhile, Jackson crouched closer to the site, his brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully examined the remains.
Jackson traced the contours of the scorched ground, his experienced eye picking up subtle details amidst the debris. “Turk,” he called out, his voice steady but tinged with gravity. “This isn't just a random fire. There are dig marks here. And I hope it wasn’t kids burning a body.”
Turk's radio crackled to life, the dispatcher's voice filled with urgency. “Copy that, Captain Crenshaw. Please detail your location. Police are en route. Please secure the area and await their arrival. Over.”
“Copy, Dispatch. We'll hold tight.” He followed with their satellite location before clipping the radio back to his belt, his attention fully on Jackson.
“This didn’t happen too long ago. We haven’t had rain.” The fragments were scattered across the clearing. Charred debris littered the ground, and the air still carried a faint scent of smoldering wood. Disturbed patches of ash hinted at recent activity.
Kneeling down, Jackson pointed to a particular area where the ashes seemed noticeably disturbed. “Look, Turk. Someone placed the body here on purpose. It was a controlled burn; otherwise, the whole area would have gone up with these leaves.”
Turk knelt beside Jackson, his own experienced eyes scanning the area with keen attention. “You’re right. Look at the body’s position. It’s been staged.”
As the sun continued to rise, the men remained tense, waiting for the police to arrive.
Occasional chirping birds and rustling leaves were the only sounds in the otherwise quiet surroundings. Finally, the distant sound of approaching footfalls indicated the arrival of the police.
* * *
Olivia's drive to the poorer part of Waverly Junction took her through narrow streets, where rows of aging apartment buildings stood shoulder to shoulder, their weathered façades bearing the scars of time. The buildings loomed overhead, their faded paint and crumbling brickwork a stark contrast to the well-maintained homes she had passed earlier. Here, in this forgotten corner of the town, poverty cast a long shadow, its presence palpable in the empty storefronts and boarded-up windows that lined the streets.
A sign was posted for Waverly Urban Development. Children played in the streets, their laughter echoing off the crumbling walls, while elderly residents gathered on stoops and benches, sharing stories and gossip as they watched the world go by.
Olivia found her way through the dimly lit corridors of the small, worn-out apartment building. Paint peeled off the walls, and flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the cracked linoleum floors. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and neglect, a stark contrast to the polished buildings of the more affluent neighborhoods in Waverly Junction.
At the ring of the doorbell, the door creaked open to Johnny Auran's apartment, revealing a humble space cluttered with the miscellanies of everyday life. The worn furniture bore the marks of use, and the faded wallpaper was from years earlier. Olivia's gaze shifted to the warm yet tired face of Johnny's mother, who welcomed her.
“Mrs. Auran, I need to ask you about that fire outside the laundromat. Do you have any idea how it started?” Olivia's voice was gentle.
Mrs. Auran's eyes clouded with concern. “I don't know much, but Johnny mentioned something about a group of boys causing trouble around here. He didn't say a lot, just that they were always causing problems.”
“Did he mention any names, anything that could help my investigation?” Olivia pressed, concern for Johnny evident in her voice.
Tears welled up in Mrs. Auran's eyes as she shook her head. “I'm sorry, he was scared to talk about it. Said he didn't want any trouble. But I'll try to remember if he mentions anything else.”
Olivia reached out, placing a comforting hand on Mrs. Auran's trembling one. “Mrs. Auran, I need to speak with Johnny. I hate to say this, but I think he knows more than he’s saying.”
Mrs. Auran nodded, her gaze teary. “You think it was Johnny and his friends, don’t you?”
