Deep Trauma

“We’re still in the early phases of this case, as you can imagine.” The detective rested her head in her interlaced hands and leaned back in her chair. “To be honest, judging from the state of the body, I’d say our victim had probably been living on the streets for a while. We’re still waiting for the autopsy results, and as of now, we don’t have an ID. Unfortunately, we often don’t make one on the unhoused . . .” She gave Riley a pointed look. “They’re seldom missed, if you know what I mean.”

It wasn’t a question. Riley knew exactly what the detective meant. In a city of ten million, there were thousands of nameless, throwaway people, and hundreds of unidentified dead piling up in the morgue each year.

“Right,” was all Riley could manage, the word barely a whisper.

“What is of most concern to me at this point is the man you described to officers Garcia and Hahn. The individual who dismissed you from the scene. Do you think you could identify him if you saw him again?”

“ I think so, he was quite distinctive.” Riley paused, conjuring the sight of the man, and with that, the hostile vibe he’d given off. “It was still dark. But he was quite large. A giant of a man, really.”

“Did you see how he arrived at the scene? His vehicle?”

“There was a pickup truck parked on the side of the road near my motorcycle when I left. I already shared that fact with Officers Garcia and Hahn.”

“Right. But anything unusual about it? . . . Like maybe front-end damage?”

Riley’s mouth felt suddenly dry. “Jesus, I didn’t look that closely,” she said, feeling blindsided that she’d not even considered the possibility the giant had somehow been involved in the accident.

The detective seemed to be processing Riley’s response carefully before she went on. “Did you happen to notice the color, or make of the vehicle? Or if there was anyone inside?”

“There may have been someone in the passenger seat. I can’t be sure, though.” Riley paused and then added, “It was an oversize pickup. You know the type—big wheels, high bumper. Dark color. Black, I think.”

“Any stickers, flags, or distinctive markings?”

“Yes, actually, now that I think about it. There was a white sticker in the rear window. I’ve seen one just like it before, but I don’t know what it symbolizes. It was, uh . . .” She tried to find the right words. “I don’t know . . .  a creepy-looking skull, I guess, with triangular eyes and pointed teeth. Do you know what it means?”

To her surprise, Detective Roberts nodded, opened her laptop, and typed something into the search bar of her browser.

“You mean like this?” she said, turning the screen toward Riley.

“Yes, that’s it. What is it?”

The detective closed her laptop and leaned her elbow on her desk. Her fingers resting across her lips perhaps signaling a reluctance to respond. All Riley got out of her was a deep sigh.

“I’m guessing whatever it is, it isn’t good,” Riley surmised, attempting to prompt the detective to elaborate, but the woman’s mind was evidently elsewhere.

“Thank you for saving us a trip today by coming in, Dr. Brighton. That’s all. We’ll be in touch if need be. I’ll have the sergeant see you out.”

“That won’t be necessary, Detective, thank you.” She stood and retrieved her jacket from the back of her seat. The woman answered only with a tight smile.

As she neared the exit at the end of a long corridor, Riley heard the rapid-fire clicking of the detective’s low heels gaining on her.

“Dr. Brighton . . . Riley,” she called out breathlessly. “One more thing, just an added precaution . . .” She lowered her voice as she closed the gap between them and said, “You might want to change your morning route to work for a few days. Or switch to commuting by car until we know more.” Riley froze, taking in the detective’s meaning. “We feel certain this was a violent crime, Dr. Brighton, not an accident. And right now, you’re the only witness we’ve had come forward.”