Do You Copy?

Chapter One: The Dead Case

A thud hits the desk.

"You know it creeps me when you do that?" The wheels of the swivel chair squeal, "when you're barely moving and staring into oblivion?"

"You're in a mood." I avert from the window overlooking the street of scuttling vehicles, noticing the bundle of documents before the flopped detective. "What's that?"

"New case," Anita replies, taking out the box of sweet snacks, always stashed in the drawer. We have been together long enough that I can recognize her keyed-up state and the quirky habit that follows—she starts munching on a spiral-shaped treat. "Well, it's another oldie."

After Anita's recent promotion to the Cold Case Unit, we occasionally dust off some old cases in addition to the existing ones in the Homicide Unit. We're getting overstretched, even with my gift acting as a cheat sheet, but this new office is a not-so-subtle whisper of achievement.

"You know Officer Lopez is serious about a case when he mentions his favorite catchphrase: Justice delayed is better than justice denied," she mimics his boisterous deep voice in a miserable rendition that a laugh escapes my mouth. "If he wasn't in the department, he'd have done well in the theater."

"But he's not wrong," I admit, ready to examine the case file, eager to start the solid, plodding detective work because 'a ghost told me' will never be law-abiding evidence. It is more likely a route from getting sacked to sent to a shrink as the crow flies.

The manila folder had the WPD logo smacked in the middle below the case file number, with a glaring red lettering stamped UNSOLVED.

I flip through each section, skimming but mentally noting the statements that stand out on the pages.

At 2:14 am on January 1, 1981, near Blueflag Lake, Jesse Williams's car spun out of control on the icy road.

Tyrell Harris, a co-worker of Jesse Williams, confused at his abandonment.

A witness claims Jesse Williams and María Williams were seen leaving a local grocery on January 25, around 9:40 pm.

A witness claims Jesse Williams was sighted at a gas station on February 28, 1981, around 4 am.

Jesse Williams and María Williams disappeared for two months and one day.

At 6:07 am on March 2, 1981, a tourist finds the couple's bodies floating in Blueflag Lake.

The set of keys found on Jesse Williams remains a mystery.

"Where's the Blueflag Lake?" I ask, the name ringing bells of familiarity yet not connecting a place.

"Southeast Wyoming. The lake remains, but the old road got closed off after the accident," Anita props her legs up on the desk, shrugging, "what a shame, I hear blue flag irises seize the lakeshore during summer."

I nod, unable to look up from the documents. The more I flip through the records, the more red flags unfurl. My eyes narrow at the autopsy report, confusion collecting like cobwebs from the corners of my mind.

The degree of María Williams' body decomposition is reported to be greater than Jesse Willaims's.

The time of death is incomprehensible. Unknown.

The cause of death concluded as death by exposure.

"How did a homicide case like this go cold?" I huff, offended on behalf of the deceased.

"There wasn't enough evidence pointing to foul play. It was a harsh winter morning—the Williams wandered off from the accident site and fell through the ice. Besides, they were drunk. 'An unfortunate accident,' the investigators conclude," she says matter-of-factly. "But, if I may say so, the case got brushed aside because there were other pressing matters—and it wouldn't be the first time."