So for this creative Saturday I’m revisiting some of my stories that fizzled out. It happens sometimes. One of the more disappointing times was the time I tried to write a thriller. It was a romance thriller of course. And I thought I was onto a good one but then I don’t know what happened. Rereading it I think I may try to revisit it even if it turns out to be only a novella. The idea isn’t bad. I need to flesh it out better. Do a little more research on real life crime stories. Slow down.
This is the beginning or what is the beginning right now. I know from my current draft the odds of this remaining the beginning is low. I do like it though for a beginning intriguing and human. We’ll see.
RING! The loud ring of the old school phone jarred him from a deep sleep He blinked hard into the inky room that held the stillness of night. Jill insisted on keeping a landline. Why she insisted on having it right by their heads on the nightstand was a whole other argument.
“What!” He barked.
“Flynn! It’s Harris.”
“What?” He asked no less annoyed. He had already rolled out of bed to his bathroom scratching his ass as he lifted the seat lid. There was a lot of commotion and noise on the other line and he knew this wasn’t a good call, even without the early morning hours.
“We got another one.”
Fuck. He thought for a moment as the steady stream dripped out of him. Fuck.
“You takin’ a piss boss?” The voice was laughing. He didn’t bother answering. “Anyway found her an hour ago. By the duck pond in Ender’s Park. Been here for at least four hours, maybe more. Oh, and they’re here already. You’re not going to get this one.”
Fuck. Fucking CSI. They were really starting to piss him off. They were knee deep in the star status that TV had afforded them. It was like dealing with a diva.
“Give me twenty.” He was about to hang up when Harris spoke again.
“Oh and Boss?”
“Yeah?” He already knew – more good news.
“She’s young. Youngest one yet. Six, tops.”
He washed his hands over his face with a sigh and hung up. Back to work. He glanced at the night clock. It was four hours since he left work. He got dressed quietly and went to Jill’s side. He gave her a light kiss on the temple. She didn’t even flinch. He smiled. She liked to tease him about being a heavy sleeper but when she was out a marching band couldn’t wake her.
He navigated the dark room to the hall where a hard working night light glowed. There wasn’t any extra time. The longer he left the scene under local control the greater the chance of damage to any future case. But he took an unusual minute to peak in on Coen. He was tangled in his Pokemon sheets. It took a minute of careful pulling to get him covered properly again. He ducked his head into Harry’s room to see her snuggled among stuffed animals and toys in her crib. It was dropped as low as possible because she was an escape artist and she was not afraid.
Six, he thought. Fuck. Coen was turning six in a month.