Watch Out Behind You

Just a thought.
One Direction has just played their biggest gig. Ever.
And a most terrible crime has just happened, under their bright lights.Never?
A who-done-it story, with a city under the lime light.

Please like and comment on what YOU think! Oh and if you have the time, check out my first movella Deafening Silence!
I'm done now... Bye!!


4. A Moral Place

There's dirty cops. Every place has them, and you can't get rid of them. They pop up everyday, with a scarce handful ever getting caught. Los Angles, Detroit and as just so happens, New York City are all places where this is a clear fact.

So as the body was wheeled to the morgue, one wheel of the gurney creaking with every rotation, there was a movement among one of the officers.

It was a move influenced by what was 'right' no doubt. In the beginning that was, maybe. A clipboard is handed over to lab specialist. The papers are flipped nonchalantly. The facts aren't really important. Not yet.

The officer gets an evidence bag from his back pocket. Not the best place to keep one no doubt, but the the N.Y.P.D has had a rough night. Its hard keeping track of a city of that size.

A nondescript cell phone is zipped up and carried away, as a backwards, preoccupied wave is given as a good bye to the forensics doctor from a stressed uniform.  A lingering "good night" is around the white sanitary halls. Gruff good byes are exchanged at the door and evidence is handed over to a night shift cop.

Do you see now? It really was a clean officer. He was to drop it off at evidence with the bookings officer and then get a few hours of sleep. Of course he was going to. But curiosity killed the cat.

The phone however, was begging to be examine before all that. Its screen lighting up with the inbox of a new text message.

An unknown number. It could be a probable cause case, he thinks, slipping his hand inside the bag and nimbly unlocking it.
 Where are you. All caps. More than three question marks. Aggravated... Messaging? He shakes his head and begins to wipe his finger prints off the device. An officer should never handle the evidence, every cop knows that, and yet....

The phone lights up again. A message more urgent than the last. "Most mysterious," he mutters aloud.
The phone now alive with texts, it is almost constantly vibrating in his hand. His fist tightens and he shuts it off, swiftly slipping it into his jacket pocket.

This phone held nothing, he decided, all it was was unknown numbers. Useless. His family needed a new phone too. And it hadn't been processed yet through the unforgiving system.

He patted the breast pocket holding the phone and crumples the already wrinkled bag, shoving it deep into a back pocket.

He swallows loudly, shoving the guilt down as well. It was a little mistake, and if no one saw... How bad could it possibly be?

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