A detective spots a killer’s unique footprint in the last place she expects. Read this gripping dark noir flash fiction and write the ending.
Sole Witness
The rain in San Antonio didn’t wash away the filth; it just made it slick.
Mari Gomez stared at the plaster cast on her desk. A distinct, interlocking chevron pattern with a jagged tear across the left heel. The imprint of a high-end running shoe. It was the only clue left in the muddy alley where old Buster, a harmless fixture of the neighborhood, had been beaten to death for the change in his pockets. Or so it seemed.
She grabbed the file and walked into the office of District Captain Vance to report her progress. The air in his office smelled of stale espresso and expensive cologne.
Vance was leaned back, his feet propped up on the mahogany desk, laughing into his phone. “Yeah, it’s handled,” he murmured, his voice smooth, devoid of the stress that kept Mari awake at night. He glanced up, saw her, and nodded toward the leather chair across from him.
Mari sat, dropping the case file onto her lap. Her gaze naturally fell to the desk. To the shoes.
Her breath hitched, sticking like dust in her throat.
There they were. Propped right at eye level. Brand-new, premium athletic shoes. And there, carved into the left sole, was a jagged, unmistakable tear splitting the interlocking chevron pattern.
Vance winked at her, still talking on the line. “Don’t worry about the noise, it’s dead in the water.”
The room turned ice-cold. Mari’s fingers tightened on the edge of the folder. Vance reached for his desk drawer, his eyes locking onto hers, the casual smile vanishing from his face.
How does Mari survive the room? Does she confront the captain right there, or play it cool and walk into a trap? The next move is yours—finish the story.
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