The whirl of the ceiling fan created a gentle breeze in Dameon's small office. He sat in his brown office chair, head in his hands as his computer started up. On his way in, he'd grabbed the files on his sister's murder. Now, all the paperwork was spread haphazardly across his desk. The 'beep' of his computer made Dameon jump slightly in his chair. Taking a deep breath he began to sort through the paperwork. There were pictures taken at the scene and her autopsy report. His body convulsed as he looked at the pictures. They had focused the majority of the shots on her stomach, wrists and throat. These didn't bother him as much as the others, the full body shots. Every time he saw her skates, he wanted to cry. They brought back so many memories.
He'd gotten Kara the skates for Christmas the year before. She'd found a passion for ice skating and had begged her parents to get her lessons. They thought it would be too much money, time and energy so they simply ignored her request. When Dameon had heard about her wish, he immediately went to the town indoor ice rink and scheduled lessons. He asked the instructor what type of skates he should get her and had raced to the store and bought them. Kara had been so surprised by her brother's gift that she had begged him to take her out that very afternoon. He'd agreed and they'd spent the rest of Christmas afternoon at the rink. She'd caught on extremely fast for an 11-year-old. The first time she fell, she got up and kept going. She was so into it that she was devastated when she and Dameon had to go home for dinner. He'd promised to take her for her lessons and that cheered her up. She loved to spend time with her brother, even though there was such a large age gap.
"Dameon, are you ok?" Tyler asked as he walked into the office with a cup of coffee, bringing the 23-year-old out of his memories. "What? Yeah I'm ok," Dameon responded wearily. "Maybe you should just go home Red," Tyler said, setting his coffee cup down. "No. I'm fine. I just need some time to myself ok," he said a little harshly. "Ok. Don't bite my head off," his partner muttered as he picked up his coffee and walked out.
As his partner left the office, Dameon turned back to the mountain of papers surrounding him. He put the pictures aside and moved on to the autopsy report. It didn't tell him anything he hadn't figured out on his own. She'd been shot in the stomach and her wrists and throat had been slit. Any idiot with half a brain could see that from just looking at her. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced over the rest of the report. The coroner had written that she had slight burns on her left leg. Glancing quickly at the full body shots, Dameon noticed the holes in her pants where the burns were located. Thinking hard, he tried to discern their cause. Drawing a blank, he turned his attention back to the autopsy report. Under the line about the burns was written "the bullet made a point of entry in the stomach and an exit point two inches to the right of the spinal column." Two offices down, Tyler sat checking his email and sipping his French vanilla coffee. It was only he, Judy his secretary and Dameon in the building. Judy had left about ten minutes ago and Tyler listened intently for any movement in Dameon's office.
Dameon opened the evidence bag containing the fragmented shards of blood stained bullet. Dumping them gently onto his desk, he attempted to classify the type of bullet. Given the size and structure of the fragments, there were only two possibilities. The bullet was fired from either a pistol or a handgun. Without the gun to clarify, the bullet presented little more than the mark of bloodshed.
Across town, Ricardo Diaz sat amidst piles of papers and folders. His red pen seemed to be making corrections on its own. As he finished the bibliography, he forced himself to count up the number of points he'd taken off. Laura Kymer, 87%. He placed Laura's paper in the completed pile to his left and picked up the next one. Leaning back on his cream colored sofa, he rubbed his cocoa colored blood shot eyes. He'd been staring at 12 font 7th grade history papers since 7 o'clock in the morning. Normally, he would sleep until about 10 o'clock but since Kara's death, he'd found it hard to get a decent night's sleep. He'd really enjoyed having her in his class. The tall, mahogany grandfather clock in the corner struck 3 o'clock and he sat up startled by the sound. Realizing what it was a moment later, he returned to the paper in his hand. Suddenly, his eyes fell on the name. It was printed in black ink, Times New Roman; Kara Redding. Ricardo gasped. He put the paper down as his hands began to shake. "Why am I freaking out? He muttered to himself. Steadying his hands, he returned to the paper. The only mark his pen made was the grade; 100%. 'Wonderful Job' he wrote at the top of the report. Instantly, he knew what he must do. He searched frantically through the gigantic piles in his living room until he found all of Kara's work. He put them in an interoffice envelope and sealed it. Next he grabbed his car keys and sprinted out the door. Ricardo Diaz leapt into his midnight blue Chevy and charged down the highway.