I Can Barely Breathe Read Free

brightly lit
yellow laptop sat ready to use in between the two men in the front
seat.
    Tom put the car in Drive and then quickly
hit the brakes, allowing a young boy on a hoverbike to glide by;
his small craft was a good three feet off the ground. Carver tapped
on the radio dial and scrolled through the static to a station. An
old blues song chimed through the speakers. Tom eased on the
accelerator, and they began the drive to the crime scene.
    “So how’s the leg?” Carver asked Tom. “I see
you’re still hobblin’ around.”
    “It fuckin’ hurts. But it’s getting better.
I’m doing the exercises every day.”
    “Good. Those should help.”
    From Kattic’s front breast pocket of his
button-up shirt, a device alarmed, three chimes of a bell, each a
different note. He pulled out his communicator and glanced at its
lit LCD screen.
    “Uniforms are taping off the scene now,” he
announced.
    Carver laughed and glanced at Tom. “You’re a
uniform. You made detective. Why aren’t you dressing the part?”
    “I was only promoted last week. Technically
I’m not a detective until next payday. So, on Tuesday, I’ll wear a
suit.”
    “The chief’s orders?” Carver asked with a
smile.
    “Yes. Dad’s a hard-ass.”
    “We’ve been investigating these bizarre
cases for seven months now, minus your time in the hospital. He
should know you’re ready,” Carver insisted, pulling out a
cigarette.
    “He does. That’s why I got the job.”
    Carver flicked his lighter and burned the
tip of his smoke, just as the squad car pulled onto the paved
highway and headed northeast. Their destination lay halfway between
Sorrow’s Sky and Cosmos, but it was technically SSPD’s
jurisdiction. The song on the radio ended, and a news bulletin came
on. The DJ said, “ In today’s news , the infamous serial
killer, who has been stalking Cosmos’s streets for beautiful young
women, is still at large. Police are confident the suspect is male
but wouldn’t comment on any specific patterns he follows or details
related to any of the specific cases . Anyone with
information is encouraged to call the CPD . ”
    “Helluva case, huh?” Tom said.
    “Yeah,” Carver replied.
    “I heard he likes women in dresses and
skirts. They say he’s gotten about five of them,” Kattic added.
    Six , Carver thought with a discrete
grin.
    After a four-mile cruise they pulled up to
the main entrance and drove under a fancy old metal frame that read
Arpac Hills Cemetery. They took a narrow paved road, and the
headstones on both sides seemed to go on for miles. Thousands of
names were chiseled into the polished, yet dated markers.
    Tall trees with thick trunks and bright
yellow leaves complemented the area and prevented the sun’s light
from directly entering the sacred ground. Branches stretched and
twisted like vines reaching for the heavens. Carver cranked his
window all the way down and hung out his elbow. He noticed a few
mourners, but, for the most part, the place was vacant.
    Up ahead they saw the yellow crime tape tied
to a few trees. Tom parked the car, and, through the windshield,
they could see their fellow officers huddled around something in
the grass. The three investigators exited the squad car, and Tom
did his best to slowly stretch his injured leg before walking on
it. Carver stomped out what was left of his cigarette and then
ducked under the crime tape. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from
his pocket and stretched them over his hands, while his partners
both did the same. It was routine for them, habit.
    “Let me see, guys,” Tom said, scooting the
other uniforms out of the way.
    Dropped in a puddle of blood-covered grass
was a severed arm.
    “Where’s the rest?” Carver asked, following
the blood trail into the nearby trees with his gaze.
    “You wanna go in there?” Tom asked, eyeing
the forest.
    “Let’s see what we’ve got first.” Kattic
kneeled down to the appendage. “It’s obviously a male victim due to
the