นิยายเรื่องนี้เขียนส่งวิชา Creative Writing Skill and Technique ซึ่งเป็นวิชาแรกที่เรียนในระดับป.โท เป็นแนวสืบสวน สอบสวน ดำเนินเรื่องหลักด้วย DI และ DS ชื่อเรื่องยังไม่มีเลยค่ะ ฮ่า ฮ่า ฮ่า มีจำนวน 2 ตอน อยากเขียนต่อแต่เป็นเรื่องที่เขียนยากเหลือเกิน เลยเอามาให้อ่านเพราะปล่อยไว้ก็เสียดาย ?

The rain had been pouring since last night and continued its work until late morning, turning every brick and stone a darker shade. On Parkfield Road, inside a bedroom inan old, there was a man, late 30s. His bare back was exposed to the world, the lower part of his face covered with facial hair. His brown hair was long and messy he had not looked in the mirror for a long time.

A mobile phone rang but there was no response from the long-haired man. The melody kept ringing until it reached the man’s consciousness. His body moved, his eyes opened, as grey as London’s weather. He picked up the phone after the caller called for the second time.

“Wheelan.”

“Earnest, finally.” There was a sigh of relief. “Listen, I know you’re still on leave, but I need you back in the field.”

“I believe there’s another DI who could get the job done.”

“We’re shorthanded.” Wheelan doubted this was true. The caller continued. “And I need you. You’re the best man for the job.”

Wheelan took a moment then asked. “What’s the case?”

Detective Inspector Earnest Wheelan knew he had made a mistake when he agreed to go back to work. He was not ready. Six months was not enough for the wound to be completely healed. His body was fine; his mind told a different story.

He sat on a mattress, lost in thought, in his past. He remembered everything like he knew how to drive. The shouting from a young man who told him to run. The blood kept pouring out of the wound. The face of the young man when the last breath left his body. Wheelan’d had nightmares since and They were not going anywhere soon.

After taking a shower, cutting his hair, and shaving, Wheelan felt transformed. He was back to the man he was six months ago; clean-cut, reliable and ready. Despite self-doubt, he left the room and went to work.

The rain had already stopped when the detective left his flat, but the road remained wet so that he could feel the water beneath his shoes. He was going to geta taxi when he heard a call.

“DI Wheelan!”It was a young man, twenty-something, light brown hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a navy suit. His hand held an identification card that resembled the one the detective had, except for the title. 

“I’m DS Shaun Hunter. PCS Church sent me.” The man announced.

Of course, he did.Wheelan thought. He was curious how long this young man had been waiting for him and how Church knew he was going to accept the case before calling him. Was there really a case?

Unfortunately, there was. Hunter confirmed it and briefed him on their way to a police station. However, Wheelan’s mind was somewhere else. He heard the DS’s voice, hisDS’s, the one that could not be here or anywhere in the world. The decent man, trustworthy comrade, who put others before himself, dedicated his life, literally life, to catch a criminal.

A dark sensation loomed over the detective. He could see but he could not see, as if he was trapped insidehis own body. Then one of his nightmares began while he was fully awake. He was running, following his DS to an alley. He knew what he was going to see if he turned right at the corner, a sound of gunfire confirmed it, that was when he heard;

“Are you all right, sir?”

Wheelan blinked and he was back in the car, sitting in the front seat, covered in a cold sweat.

“Sir?” Hunter called again, more concerned this time.

“Yes…” A space at the end of the word suggested uncertainty, Wheelan detected it and surely the DS too. He said it again to convince Hunter, but mostly to convince himself. “Yes, I’m fine.”

At that moment, he could be anything but not an actor or a liar. Hunter did not respond, so the detective was off the hook for the time being.

The police station was a white and blue building with white roof, located on First Avenue, ten minutes away from Newcastle train station. The white letters were on a red brick building that connected to the main one. A car park for short term visitors was at the front. The small lawn made this place look less dull and more welcome.   

Hunter parked his car at the back of the building with a larger car park. He looked at the old/new DI whose name he’d heard for several months, but he never had met him until now. He could not see why everyone was talking about this man as a hero, a great detective, and the ideal person they were looking for. He only saw a man with problems; otherwise,why Wheelan took a long break.

While they were walking to their own department, Hunter carefully observed the inspector who had seemed to have had something on his mind this whole time. He was sure that what he’d said in the car about the case could not penetrate the man’s thought.

“What happened to Brown? Or was it Burrows?”

Hunter did not expect to hear his former DI’s name in the conversation, he looked at Wheelan before he answered.

“It’s DI Burrows. He’s going to transfer to GMP Headquarter.”

“That’s why Church wanted me.”

Since it was not a question, Hunter said nothing and pushed the door open to their department.

The room was filled with filing cabinets, chairs and desks with computers. Lots of noise came from several directions. One man in a suit, bald and chubby, was talking to another man who was younger and taller. A woman at the corner desk was on a phone. Two uniform police and another man in a suit were having a serious conversation. 

“Is it the same?” Hunter asked, trying to fill the silence between them.

“Pretty much,”

Wheelan stepped forward. His eyes traced along the room, absorbing the familiar surroundings. Everything he’d seen contained memories; his first day as a detective inspector who just transferred from Stanley Police Station, the first day he met his DS and his team. The desk where they celebrated their first case together. An incident room that occasionally turned into a place for celebrating birthdays. Those five years of memories had never left his brain. If he looked hard enough, they would come back to life.   

He turned towards his room, at the corner, though his eyes rested on a desk at the front. It was the same as the last time he saw it, but the name on the plate had changed. The reality gutted him, made him sick and he wanted to throw up. He was not supposed to be here. He should not have returned to the place where it all began.

“Earnest, I’m glad you’re back.”

PCS Anthony Church, a tall man in his 50s, greeted the inspector with a warm smile. A sight of an old friend soothed his nerves. It was hard not to smile back when confronted by a man who was kind and gentle, yet so powerful.

“Tony.” That was all Wheelan could say.

Churchknew exactly where hissubordinate’s mind was heading, he needed this man to concentrate. There was no point clinging to the past

“You’ve met DS Hunter. He’s a good lad and a smart one.”

Wheelan looked at the young man, who now talking to Louise Scott, one of his old team. It was good to see some familiar faces in the department.

“I’ll let you get back to work.”

Church turned away and walked out the room.

The room went silent, all the faces turned toward Wheelan. DC Patrick Mason, the bald man in the suit, came to shake his hand.

“I thought we geta new inspector.”

“Good to see you too.”

Mason and Scott were in his unit and worked on The River Tyne Killer with him; the case that changed Wheelan’s life and made him question his career and future.

Another young man introduced himself as Joshua Park, a new detective constable who had started working a month ago. The last man on his team was David Turner who’d transferred to this station two years ago as a police constable, now he was a detective.

Scott came to talk to Wheelan.She was the one who kept checking on him every month since the incident.

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure you’re going to come back.”

“Guess I miss the brownies. Once a month wasn’t enough.”

Her lip twitched into a smile. She missed having him around, and she missed another person who would never be here too. She had high hope that everything would be back to normal when Wheelan was back. 

After a reunion, Hunterreviewed the case for Wheelan again, this time he focused on every detail.

On 14 September, around six-thirty in the morning, Mr John Foster, a bank employee, found a wallet in the stairwell between the 2^ndand 3^rdfloors. It belonged to Miss Rachel Leech. Foster lived on the same floor, so he went up to her room, but she was not there. He knew she was a receptionist, she was probably on a night shift or morning shift, so he kept the wallet with him and went to work. He knocked on her door again at five-fifty in the evening, but she still was not at home. He met Mr Michael Cooper, Leech’s boyfriend who had also looked for her since she was not answering the phone and did not show up at work. Cooper called his girlfriend’s colleagues, but no one knew where she was.

On 15 September, the half-naked body of Rachel Leech had been found on a rooftop of the flat by Mrs Alice Baker, one of the residents, at seven-fifteen in the morning. The face of the victim was covered by her underwear. She had a head injury and her scarf was tightened around her neck. There were bite marks on her thighs. Her body had been sexual assaulted and mutilated. The SOCOs on scene found a small amount of her blood on a wall where the wallet had been found. They also found trace of semen on her clothes. The autopsy revealed she had died of strangulation. The sexual assault and mutilation was post-mortem. There was a lack of defensive wounds. Time of death was 4 am to 7 am on 14 September. According to Cooper, Leech would leave her flat around 5 to 5:10 am when she was on the morning shift.

“You suspected the man who found the wallet or the boyfriend, but both of them had an alibi.” Asked, Wheelan.

“Yes. The CCTV and their friends confirmed their statements.” Hunter said. “Now we’ve got nothing.”

“What if I tell you that I know the perpetrator.”

Hunter looked at the DI in disbelief while everyone else looked at the man like something good was going to happen.