Waves of nausea rippled through my body, but I valiantly controlled the urge to vomit. It was my first day on the homicide beat, and I wasn’t about to embarrass myself in front of the veteran police detectives and paramedics on the scene.
I saw Detective Ryan, and waved. “Amber, a moment?”
She looked at me, rolled her eyes, but walked over anway. “Sally, how’s it that you come from a family of cops but end up a reporter?”
“You don’t want to comment?”
“Kid, your dad is the chief of police, of course I’m going to answer questions.” She absent-mindedly scratched at a rash. It looked like poison ivy.
“Who’s the stiff?” I said with more bravado than I felt. Truth be told, he was ripe and my stomach objected.
Amber smirked, as if she knew the internal battle I waged. “The dead man is Roger Wells, forty-three. He’s been dead for a while. The ME will give us more info once he examines the remains in a lab. It looks like sharp force trauma.”
I nodded sagely, and made a few notes. Despite the smell and Amber’s pretentious attitude, I was excited. Don’t judge me. This was my chance to make a name for myself and maybe catch the eye of an editor at a bigger paper. The Greenville Gazette was fine for a recent graduate, but I was ready for more.
Taking out my phone, I snapped a few pictures. I noticed an envelope sticking out of a nearby bush and reached for it.
“Don’t touch that!” Amber shouts. I was pushed out of the way and gloved experts opened it. Amber read the note. “Crap! The Night Bear Struck again!”
My first assignment was a Night Bear murder? Without hesitating, I called my editor.