Summary: the police are called in to deal with some probably drunk and high people trying to attack others, but when they get there, it's much worse than what they assumed...
=--=--=--=
"All officers, we have a two-one-two and a possible two-one-seven on Council Street, we might also have a four-one-seven there as well. Exercise caution if you must." The voice crackled over the radio, and Peterson started the car in an instant, the headlights chasing away the darkness of the night.
His buddy, Browns, straightened up just as quickly.
"What is with the assault these days..." he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.
Crimes were being committed more and more in their area, with most criminals being 18 or under. It was truly a new day and age... in which anyone could have or had their hands on drugs and other illegal substances.
Peterson turned onto the road, driving towards Council Street. His eyes stared straight ahead, but he told Browns, "We might have a four-one-seven. It wouldn't surprise me if that's a kid with his father's gun."
Browns scoffed and replied, "It wouldn't surprise me if that's the father. So much shit's getting out of hand these days."
They road in silence for a while after that.
Then the radio crackled again.
"Jacobs and Riley here. Can't find anyone."
In the background, there was also a yelled "can see shit either".
"Anyhow, whoever sent the call's not in the house. But we got some coke on the counter, whole box of cheap alcohol too. It's empty. Probably tied to the shoplifting from two weeks ago."
Peterson's fingers rapped on the wheel while he kept his eyes on the road; so everyone had left.
But if all that alcohol was empty, that meant the presumed teens were drunk. A drunk person wouldn't get far, and the call had only been sent 15 minutes ago.
This was a bit strange.
Browns then got on the radio and asked, "Any footprints, traces, anything?"
"Nope. We got nothing but the substances. Kids must've fled or something."
Then, again, Jacobs' buddy's voice came over the radio. "Riley, get o'er here! Found something!"
That was when Peterson arrived at the house.
Only Jacobs and Riley's patrol car was there right now, the others were still on their way.
Peterson said into the radio, "Jacobs, Riley, we're at the house. Where're you?"
Riley was the one to respond. "Backyard. Better get a look at this."
He could hear the sound of Jacobs puking in the background audio.
=--=--=--=
The house was swarmed by police.
Warning tape had been set up, coroner was there, ambulance had showed up.
Peterson was dabbing the sides of his mouth with a napkin. He had the same reaction as Jacobs.
Then the coroner, a lady in a white face mask and coat, walking up to him with a clipboard in hand.
She had tired blue eyes and messy brown hair that was tied in a ponytail; she had probably just gotten up.
"Audrey Krause. 17, exact cause of death is... unknown. But she clearly has several bite marks, stab wounds, bruises around the neck, and a broken leg and rib. From what we can tell, she was probably the one who called the PD."
Peterson rubbed his face with his hands and then kept them there as he asked back, "So she called the PD and then her friends got pissed. They're drunk and high, they don't know what they're doing, and they kill her. Then they run, Jacobs and Riley get here..."
The coroner nodded back. "The blood hasn't coagulated yet, so she died fairly recently. Probably a couple minutes after the call was sent."
[TEMPORARY END]