“It was really dark last night, but I’m pretty sure this is the place.” Bailey told Officer Chase. He stared at her with an arched brow like she didn’t know what she’s talking about, that she’s just another victim of the recent kidnapping serial killer. “I have a photographic memory and although I was blindfold, I could mentally manipulate sound to determine my precise location.” He continued to stare with disbelief. “I have an IQ of 200, I think I know what I’m talking about.”
Officer Chase coughed, “smarty pants.” Heard that, she wanted to say but knew better.
Silently, they walked along the bridge, searching for the evidence Bailey left as she was running for her life last night, her anklet. The kidnapper tore it off her ankle. So she had no doubt that it would contain the killer’s DNA. “Found it.” She pointed to what’s left of her anklet, it must had broken off when it fell off.
Officer turned the evidence bag inside out and picked up the anklet. “All right, we’ll give you a call when we find something.”
A week later, Officer Chase knocked on Bailey’s door. “Bailey Lancaster, you’re under arrest for the murder of four people.” He read her the rights as he clasped the handcuffs around her wrists.
“I’m innocent!” She screamed as she’s being dragged to the police car.
This is a response for Roger Shipp’s flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction For the Purposeful Practitioner. We are given the beginning of the sentence and we are to finish the story.