Chapter 2 - "The Crime Scene of Dianne Sorenson"

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Chapter 2
"The Crime Scene of Dianne Sorenson"
Axel Toma

It was late Friday night when I got the call.

I had been at my desk in my bedroom, doing paperwork for my team's latest mission. We had been investigating the spread of JH-14, a new drug in town. We found ties to the local gang called the Serpents. They're led by a man named David Kincaid, but so far we haven't been able to find concrete evidence that he's been participating in any of the gang's illegal activities, they make sure he looks clean. However, we have managed to find a few suspects who may be involved in helping the Serpents distribute the drugs and money.

Currently, I was writing a report for the Academy, informing them of the little progress my team has made this week. Unfortunately, the Serpents were smarter than we were expecting.

At the sound of my phone ringing, I answered it quickly. "Axel Toma."

"There's been an incident at Sunnyvale Court that you should be made aware of," Detective Andrew Jones said shortly. He was a member of the Academy and a homicide detective with the police.

Sunnyvale Court-- that's where a couple members of the Blackbourne team live. But why would I need to be told? I wasn't their team lead, even if we did help each other out every once in a while.

"There's been a murder at John Sorenson's house a couple hours ago. His wife, Dianne, is dead. I just got the call and am heading over right now. Thought you might want to come since he's one of your suspects," Jones said.

Indeed, he was. Mr. Sorenson was on the top of a very short list. This could be the breakthrough we've been hoping for.

"Text me the address. I'll be right there," I replied before hanging up.

I informed the rest of my team of what happened and that I was going to check it out. With that done, I headed to the Sorenson household. Not a moment too soon, Detective Jones had pulled up seconds before me.

Together, we entered the house and ducked under the police tape. Jones gave me a set of latex gloves and slipped on a pair himself. Glancing at the kitchen, I saw Mr. Sorenson sitting at the table with his daughter, Marie. I noticed the sadness on the girl's face and her red-rimmed eyes. An officer was taking their statements, standing stiffly in front of them.

I followed Jones straight ahead to where the living room opened up in the center of the house. There was a staircase to the left which lead upstairs and around a corner beside it was a bedroom. A screen door at the far wall connected to the backyard and a set of open double doors showed a small office space to the right.

My face was an emotionless mask as I crouched next to the corpse of Dianne Sorenson. A large pool of blood surrounded her chest, contrasting with the pale color of her skin. She was slumped over, her head tilted to the side with her wide eyes open. I noticed the scratches on Dianne's arms; they weren't too deep, but enough to draw a little blood.

"The gunshot must have nicked her heart, she probably bled out in seconds. She didn't have a chance," Jones murmured.

I glanced around the body, taking in the signs of what might have happened. A leg of the coffee table grabbed my attention. I moved over, lowering my head to get a closer look. There were indents that almost looked like claw--or maybe even fingernail--markings. If I had to guess, I would say that someone had probably been laying on their back and had their hand wrapped around the wooden leg so tightly, they'd left fingernail scratches on it. I could be wrong though. They could have had a pet a long time ago, the table might've been damaged in the move, or they could've bought the piece of furniture used from someone else. But something in my gut told me my first thought was the correct one.

I stood up and surveyed the living room. Every item was of high value and quality. An empty spot caught my eye. The room seemed to have two of everything; two chairs, end tables, cigarette boxes, coasters set on the coffee table, picture frames on the wall, candles... everything except the lamp. There was only one clear glass lamp on the far end table, but not on the closer one by Mrs. Sorenson's body. The whole setup of the living room screamed organization, symmetry, and perfection--something Mr. Blackbourne himself took care to participate in.

"What? Do you see something?" Detective Jones anxiously asked.

"I'm not sure yet," I whispered, contemplating over my findings. It didn't make sense, I could see no glass anywhere so if the lamp had broken during the murder, someone must have cleaned it up. But there was also the possibility that it had been damaged at an earlier date and they hadn't been able to replace it yet.

"Let's search through the rest of the house," I walked over to the bedroom next to the stairs and entered. In the center of the room, there was an unmade four-poster bed. A disorganized selection of pill bottles sat on the nightstand with a half filled glass of water beside them. Across from the bed, a flatscreen TV rested on top of a dresser. There were two doors inside the bedroom; one lead into a bathroom and the other into a walk-in closet.

Besides the pills, everything seemed to be in order, though the room wasn't very tidy like the living room was. Nevertheless, nothing here told me of an ulterior motive or ties to the crime.

Jones and I moved to the second story of the house. We checked the second bedroom to the right and found a mess. This was definitely Marie's room, it had the touch of a crazy teenage girl all over it. Clothes were strewn across the floor and pouring out of the closet. Books were piled high and half-hazardously on the desk with papers sticking out. The blankets of the bed were twisted and scrunched up in a bunch. None of the CSI could find anything in there and neither could I. No money, drugs, or murder weapon.

We stopped at the hallway bathroom. It was clean and well-kept. The tiles were glistening and bright white. I did catch one thing amiss. On the rug, there was a speck of fresh dirt on the corner.

Jones and I then went into the last bedroom. I was slightly surprised. All of the rooms in this house were decorated or filled with too many objects to keep perfectly organized. But this room was almost completely bare. There was only a small bed pushed against the wall, a desk next to the doorway, and a filled bookcase fitted into a section of wall that turned inside, creating a corner. I glanced down at the carpet and saw a tiny pattern. It appeared to be drag marks and they lead to where the bookcase was sitting. Huh, throughout the house, I haven't seen anything suggesting that the Sorenson family moved the furniture around. So why did they do so in here when it was so empty?

Before I could further investigate, an officer knocked on the bedroom door behind us.

"Detective Jones, I finished taking Mr. and Ms. Sorenson's statements. They're ready for you now," he said before leaving.

"Alight, let's go find out what happened here tonight," Jones huffed and exited the room.

I did the same, all the while wondering about the peculiarities of the crime scene of Dianne Sorenson.

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