Brad caressed his three day stubble and peered over the edge of the bridge.
Newly appointed Head of the local Police he was unprepared for what he saw. He’d forgotten his binoculars and took a photo with his mobile, zooming in as best he could.
The corpse of indeterminate sex was mangled almost beyond recognition.
A passenger on the 9.00 London to Edinburgh had phoned in the info earlier, but it had taken him and his team over an hour, trekking through the woods, to get to the bridge.
His shoes were caked in mud and his arms were marked with fine scratches from the dense foliage.
He felt self-conscious: unprepared; a real rookie.
“Look Boss! Down there! Right in the middle of the path.”
Sandy pointed excitedly, passing him her field glasses.
He focused on the object.
“Seems like a pair of boots!”
He checked his fuzzy photo again.
The victim was barefoot.
This is my entry to this weeks Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW).
Please scroll back to my previous entries and also check out the other writer’s contributions by clicking on the blue frog above.