Flash Fiction Friday, Cycle 93

See the link under Noteworthy Blogs to Flash Fiction Friday. Cycle 93 invites stories using the following words.

Traffic, New Shoes, Calculus, Bus Stop, School, Principal


Trajectory

Detective Constable Burton opened the nearside passenger door of the marked patrol car and let Maureen out by the hospital entrance. The car was parked in an area marked ‘AMBULANCES ONLY’. DC Burton didn’t care.

“What do I call you?” Maureen asked.

“Gemma is fine,” replied the officer.

Ten minutes later DC Burton and her charge were in the waiting room of the pathology department. Maureen was sniffling into the handkerchief offered her by the officer when they first sat down. At least, Gemma thought, she had remembered to pick up a clean one when leaving for work this morning.

A heavy swing door opened. The rubber draught trap attached to the bottom edge caught on the linoleum. It made the same noise as the sliding door effect on Star Trek. Gemma noticed and idly wondered if Maureen got it as well.

A man in a surgical gown approached them. Gemma caught sight of the bodily fluid stains. She hoped Maureen was oblivious. After introducing himself as Richard Tindal, Principal Pathologist, Gemma and Maureen were taken through the door and down a short corridor. It was modern and spotlessly clean. Another heavy door led to a room with nothing other than a gurney situated in the middle. It was clear there was a body under the sheet.

Maureen gasped and gripped Gemma’s hand. Afterwards DC Burton remembered that there had been no hesitation to Maureen’s recognition of Paul, her 14 year old son. The moment was followed by visceral, uncontrolled grief. Gemma did her best to comfort Maureen. Until a couple of hours ago she had never met the woman. Now DC Burton was the person Maureen turned to in a moment of utter torment. Gemma tried hard to be detached and professional. It was tough. The poignancy of Maureen being handed the boy’s clothes and commenting that he had only worn his new shoes once was almost too much.

The drive from the hospital to Maureen’s house was slow going. The rush hour traffic didn’t help. Maureen’s silence was punctuated only by her sobs. Gemma felt guilty for wishing the job could be over and found the prospect of attempting small talk impossible.

"Maureen, I know this is difficult but I need to ask a few questions if you feel up to it," said DC Burton. She had made a cup of tea for the two of them. Maureen sat huddled up on her sofa. There were so many reminders of Paul around her; photos on the mantlepiece, a jacket left carelessly on a chair back, a text book on calculus.

"The accident reconstruction boys will be using that," Gemma said, nodding towards the book.

"What?"

"Calculus, Maureen. It will be possible to work out an approximation of how fast the driver was going when he hit Paul. We know how far he was carried by the collision. His trajectory will tell us a lot about the behaviour of the driver."

"Have you got a registration number?"

"Yes, well, a partial one anyway. With the description of the car it should be enough."

Maureen told DC Burton how Paul had left home that morning, the first of the new school term. From the timing Gemma was able to surmise that he had been at the bus stop 250 metres from his house for about ten minutes before the impact. Witnesses had described how Paul stepped off the kerb as if intending to cross the road and go to a shop on the other side. The green car seemingly appeared from nowhere and hit him. There was no attempt to slow down or stop afterwards.

Gemma knew the Coroner, at the very least, would want family background information. She coaxed Maureen into disclosing that the last few weeks had been difficult but Paul had seemed to cope alright. Mike, Paul's step-father, had eventually left Maureen after a melt down in their relationship. Threats had been made but Maureen blamed herself because of her affair and she put some of the things Mike had said down to the hurt he must have been feeling.

"We will need to speak to him, just to get the complete picture, Maureen."

"Ok."

"Do you have an address or telephone number?"

"No, he's not been in touch and I don't know where he's staying. I tried his mobile but he must have changed it."

"Does he have a car?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the registration number?"

"Not off the top of my head but I've got some old insurance documents in a drawer somewhere."

After a couple of minutes Maureen returned to the living room and handed Gemma a clutch of papers. Gemma looked at the details. The insured car was a green Renault Megane. The VRN - Vehicle Registration Number - was NX09 OJD. That rang a bell. Gemma got her iPhone out. She had been receiving regular emails with updates on enquiries being undertaken by colleagues. There it was. The partial registration number; OJD.

The officer made an excuse and stepped into the kitchen. She hit a number in speed dial.

"Sarge, I've reason to believe the fatal hit and run was deliberate."