Photo credit@ Geogia Koch
A copper tang mingled with the dockyard flotsam.
“Lotta blood. She been dead long?”
“An hour or two, hard to say for sure.”
“Not really, just a little damp.”
The officer turned to face his partner; her uniform, wet and tattered, “Same MO, same perp?”
“You look rode hard. How long you been chasing this asshole?”
“About two hours too long,” she said, her voice strangely shallow.
“Next time call for backup. You always gotta be a damn hero.”
“Sure, next time,” her words trailed off as her image faded to nothingness.
For more hard boiled crime fiction or nautical tales go to Friday Fictioneers hosted by the famous Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.