The jogger rounded the edge of the forest and came to a sudden standstill on the lake shore. He paused for breath and chose his next album. As the squealing guitar intro burst into his inner ear he heard nothing outside of this musical rock bubble. He didn’t hear the waves as they kissed the rocks. Nor did he hear the morning bird song that belied the beauty that had been defiled. His world was a fusion of nature and culture and the pounding drums and searing riffs were a warning of how easily tranquility can be violated. He adjusted his socks, looked up, breathed in and started off again. Seconds later he came to a second sudden standstill on the lake shore.

***

The phone rang and a breathless man tried to explain himself but his words tumbled out incoherently.

“Take your time, sir. Firstly your name, telephone number and address, and your current location.”

He managed to compose himself and eventually the operator had enough details to pass on.

“Thank you, sir. Stay where you are and someone will be with you as soon as possible.”

***

When the call came Aaron was sitting in the parked patrol car listening to Radio 1 and eating a packet of crisps. He knew exactly where it had happened. He would often go to the lake as a teenager and skinny dip with his latest squeeze before sneaking off into the forest to “offload some muddy waters.” His uncle Steve used to use the term impolitely about his friend with benefits. It was a beautiful spot with untarnished views and pure unpolluted air that allowed you to unwind from whatever stresses life had laid upon you. It was probably his favourite place in the county. Jack opened the passenger door and got in beside him, holding the day’s paper.

“Something’s happened down at the lake, mate. Ready?”

“Yeah, mate. Hit the gas.”

***

The jogger froze with fear at the sight that greeted his eyes. His legs shook and he started to utter expletives. The music continued to pound in his head like a hammer smashing his senses. He went over to it. He stared. He stepped back, almost falling over his own feet. He could not take his eyes off it. It was grotesque. He felt himself struggle for breath as he took in the awful sight.

“Fuck!” he shouted, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was a man who did not swear.

In the end he had to take himself away and he found a rock just inside the forest that allowed him to face away from his discovery. He continued to listen to his music but every note took his mind back to the car boot, which remained open.

***

The swans took off in fright from the lake as the police car skidded to a halt on the smoking gravel. Both doors opened simultaneously as the rippling water gained momentum and the birds became gliding white dots at the other side. The officers, determined, made their way to the car and they too recoiled at the sight that greeted them. As they turned away they spotted a man huddled over on a rock with earphones in. They started towards him. He was oblivious to their presence.

***

Earlier…

Aaron was sitting behind the front desk filling in some paperwork when he heard the man enter the station.

“I want to report that my car has been stolen”

“Certainly, sir. Can you describe it?”

He jotted down the details and put a call out for all patrols to keep a look out for a silver Vauxhall Corsa, registration number LV10XMH reported stolen from the drive of number 18, Harrington Avenue.

“Ok, sir. Here’s the report. You need to get in touch with your insurance company as soon as possible. We’ve got every car in the county looking for it.”

“Thanks.” The man appeared unperturbed as he walked out into the street again.

***

After taking a statement from the jogger, who was in a state of deep shock, Aaron and Jack had discussed the case. Although the jogger would have to make a statement later at the station, neither felt that he was a suspect. He was that innocent third party who chances upon the aftermath and is left to face the trauma that is the inevitable result.   Aaron had registered that the car was the same Corsa that had been reported missing earlier. A niggling doubt started running through his mind and he decided that he should act on his hunch and call in for questioning the owner of the silver car.

***

The young man turned calmly to his girlfriend and informed her casually that he would have to return to the police station to answer a few more questions. He slipped on his shoes, put his leather jacket under his arm and kissed her lovingly before heading out into the mid-morning sunshine which bathed his pale face with golden shadows. As the door closed, she turned down the bland, daytime television, picked up her mobile and dialled. There was a voice on the other end. She spoke briefly, put the phone down again and headed upstairs to look for them.

***

The young man in the leather jacket arrived at the station, reported once more to the front desk and was ushered within minutes into an interview room where every word he said was recorded. He gave his account, answered every question put to him. He described the moment when he heard the engine start up, looked out of the bedroom window and realised that the car was being stolen. The dash to get dressed and find the keys to the bike. The mad chase down the street in the hope that he was heading in the right direction. Realising that it was all futile. Returning home to comfort his distraught girlfriend. Deciding to leave it until the morning to report it.

“Strange that you didn’t report it at once.”

“I know. I don’t know why we did that. She was so upset. We got carried away and then slept. I thought it was all a bad dream when I woke up this morning. Then I remembered.”

“Interview terminated at 11.25 a.m.” The recorder clicked.

“Ok, sir. That’s all for now. If we need any more information we will be in touch.”

***

 

Aaron and Jack went through the interview again later and could find nothing to suggest that the man in the leather jacket was in any way implicated. Initial forensic tests showed two sets of fingerprints all over the car, his and the girlfriend’s. It was their car after all. CCTV images had revealed nothing of the Corsa or the bike but there again they didn’t have every corner of the town covered. There must be something. Some clue. Or maybe they were barking up the wrong tree anyway. They decided to trawl through their social media to see if that gave them any clues. He was clearly fond of tweeting about the most trivial of issues and was being followed by a few hundred other ranting people. He had a large number of friends on Facebook, had links to Linkedin and Pinterest. They read his posts and gained access to all his messages. They looked through the likes and replies to see if anyone had a grudge and might steal their car. Or worse. To see if he had a grudge that would justify what had happened by the lake.

“Wow. That’s beautiful.”

“What’s beautiful?”

“That eye picture.”

“You’re right. It’s stunning”

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to paint it, Mr Picasso!”

“Maybe. Print it off for me”

Aaron enjoyed drawing and painting in his spare time. It was a way to escape from the stress of the job. A way to unwind. A way to put behind him the terrible things he saw and heard in this line of work. He folded over the black and white print of the eye and put it in his pocket. The day had been frustrating. Tomorrow they would have to question all the neighbours. They would need to talk to family and friends and see what they could dredge up.

“Ok, mate. Time to call it a day. This continues tomorrow. See you early. Let’s say seven. Some poor family needs to know what happened to some poor sod.”

 

***

It was nine forty-five at night. Jack was playing on his playstation and losing again. The jogger was having nightmares having gone to bed early. The poor sod was in bits. The man in the leather jacket and his girlfriend were going over things. Aaron had eaten late and watched on Sky News the latest atrocities committed by ISIS in Syria. He deliberated between going to bed and doing some drawing. He was in the middle of drawing a portrait of his niece and had a pretty decent outline that now needed shading. He was about to start when he had second thoughts and pulled out the crumpled eye from his pocket. He started in the middle and drew a circle for the pupil. It was never a perfect circle. That much he had come to realise. The lashes were incredible but so intricate. He started to look at the shading he would have to do and then he made the most amazing discovery.

“Got you!” he shouted. He jumped up and phoned Jack, who was actually doing well for once and tempted to not answer his phone. Aaron sometimes phoned him for no other reason than to wind him up.

***

A young man in a leather jacket was racing along the M25 towards the Dartford tunnel. His girlfriend clung to him, terrified.   They had decided to flee in spite of their belief that they would not be implicated anyway. They had covered their tracks well and had left no stone unturned to ensure that their DNA was not found on the body. It was better to be safe than sorry. She had located their passports and packed a small bag for each of them while he was at the police station. When he returned they were ready to leave straightaway.

***

With the back of the house covered, Aaron and Jack burst in through the front door ready to arrest the two suspects. As they searched each room it didn’t take long to realise that they had fled. The document box open on the bed told part of the story. As they ran out again they saw that the bike had gone. Aaron called the station and asked them to alert all airports and ferry terminals that two suspects were attempting to flee the country on a blue Suzuki.

***

 

They held hands and kissed as they waited in line with all the other vehicles at Dover. It was almost time to start loading and they were keen to embark and put some distance between themselves and the police. Light-hearted and playful, there was, nevertheless, no escape from the symbolic blood that was smeared all over their hands. While they were still pondering their escape and their future four blue lights began to flash and four sirens started an almighty chorus as they raced over and surrounded the bike. The man released his girlfriend and started to run but was grappled to the ground before he had run ten metres. He was handcuffed and read his rights. It was all over.

***

“Good work, mate.”   Jack was full of praise for his partner, who admitted that it was more by luck than management that he had discovered the piece of evidence that placed both the man and his girlfriend at the scene of the crime.

As he looked in more detail at the purple eye, which the girlfriend regularly covered with different coloured contact lenses, he noticed two reflections in the eye. The first was a reflection of the boyfriend as he took the picture. The second was a clear image of a lake with a silver Vauxhall Corsa and a blue Suzuki parked next to it. The boot of the car was up and there was no mistaking the dismembered body that the jogger had found a few hours later. That image placed both of them at the lake with the car they had reported stolen and the victim. A further investigation of Facebook revealed a number of people with whom they had a grudge and one of those had been reported missing earlier in the day. The secret of the purple eye.

©Cre8ivation