By the time the e-mail had been sent out, nearly all of the campus had heard about what happened to Abbie, or at least some version of the story. There were rumors that she had committed suicide; that she had been killed by her boyfriend; there were even rumors that her death was a hoax.
Of course, the few students that had the chance to see her body knew that it was not a hoax. These students were too busy recovering physically and mentally after witnessing the graphic image; and few other people saw the body at all, as the police had blocked off the area and removed the body from the crime scene within hours of her death.
The day that Abbie died, she became the most popular student on campus. Everybody had a story about how they sat next to her in class, or how they lived on the same floor, or how they went to parties together. Despite the fact that everybody claimed to be good friends of hers, nobody could account for what she had been doing in the hours leading up to her death.
Damon was no different. He had a connection to Abbie just like everybody else. Abbie was a student of Damon's. Although, he could not say that he really knew her. She was just a student who happened to be in his class. She was not active in class discussions, but her papers were always well thought-out and her exam scores were high. It was no surprise that she should be found dead just outside of the school library.
His class with Abbie was later in the day; the later of two Philosophy classes that he taught on Mondays. He did not know how he, or his students, would respond to being in a classroom with a ghost.
Officer Peter Sheffield was on duty the night that Abbie died. He was at the station working on a sudoku, less than an hour from the end of his shift, when the call came in from a distressed John Carmichael at about 5 am.
"Hello? Police?" Each word was accompanied with heavy breathing, a combination of stress and weariness from his run.
"Yes, what is the emergency?"
"There's a dead girl! She's covered in blood. She's on the ground. She's wouldn't move." Each of these statements took longer for John to say; he was struggling to articulate his thoughts. He wanted to explain the specifics of the horrific scene that he viewed, but his words would not allow it.
"Can you give me the address of her location, please?"
John didn't know the address. "She's outside of the library at Clear Lake College." He didn't know the name of the library, either.
"We're on our way. Are you there right now?"
"No."
"We're going to need to ask you some questions. Could you please leave your name, phone number, and address?"
John obliged.
"Thank you." Officer Sheffield hung up the phone and drove to Grainger Library with his fellow officer that was on duty with him, Gary Anderson.
In the squad car, Officer Sheffield briefed Officer Anderson on the report he had just received. "A young man by the name of John said that he found a woman laying on the ground outside Grainger Library. He said that she was bleeding and motionless. He claimed that she's dead."
"What are you thinkin'?"
"I don't know." Sheffield took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Ya know, it's possible that she's just asleep. Today is the first day of the spring semester at Clear Lake. Maybe she got together with some friends to have one last hurrah before school starts again, had a few too many drinks, and passed out on her way home."
"That doesn't explain the blood, though."
"It might. We'll just see how bad she's bleeding. She coulda slipped on the ice, fell down on the sidewalk, and busted her lip. That's been known to happen to people who haven't even had a sip this time o' year."
"Hm," Anderson agreed.
There was a sense of tension in the vehicle. Sheffield was speaking in a tone that was overly optimistic. Anderson could hear this in his voice, and now both officers were anticipating the worst.
After five of minutes of driving through the traffic-less streets of Clear Lake, Minnesota, they arrived at Grainger Library. Sheffield saw the body in the snowy field, but did not have a good view from the squad car.
Sheffield parked the car outside of the library and left the lights on. The two officers stepped out of the car and walked toward the body.
"Oh shit," Anderson muttered as the corpse came into sight. He turned away and put his hand over his mouth as if he was about to vomit.
Sheffield calmly called for a Crime Scene Investigator, as was protocol. He continued to walk toward Abbie's motionless body. He took out his notebook and examined examined the scene. It was clear that the girl was not breathing.
Anderson vomited loudly.
Sheffield took note of everything he could see without touching the victim: both of the victim's wounds, what the girl looked like, how her body was positioned, and the pile of intestines that lied mere feet away from her. He could feel a lump in his stomach as he wrote down that last description.563Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjBRA44PM0a
Sheffield made note of the time, 5:16, and awaited the arrival of the investigator that was being sent.563Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGiwubADPiv
