Criminal Intentions

Bellamy had spent nearly his whole life in Rockmill County. The back roads were etched into his memory like the creases on the palm of his hand, and he could navigate them with ease. Not a stone had escaped the impact of his boot, not a tree the passing of his rickety old police cruiser. The breeze blew gracefully through the leaves and grass as a group of middle school kids rode their bikes down the dirt road away from town. Bell was on his way into town himself after receiving a call from his partner, Sheriff Payne.

Bellamy’s hands gripped the well-worn steering wheel of his trusty Ford Mustang LX, the familiar grooves providing a comforting grip as he expertly maneuvered through the winding back roads of Rockmill County. As the sun dipped in the sky, its waning rays cast a serene glow over the landscape, casting an ethereal aura over the rolling hills and sprawling farmland that stretched to the horizon. The tranquility of the evening enveloped the quaint rural town, seeping into every nook and cranny, as if someone painted the sky with liquid gold.

As Bell entered Rockmill’s residential downtown, he transitioned from a dirt road to a poorly maintained paved road riddled with potholes. His attention was drawn to another police cruiser parked at the curb, right next to Dane’s Bakery, the popular local coffee shop. Peering inside the cruiser, Bellamy noticed his fellow officer, Jason, slumped in the driver’s seat, appearing to be half asleep. With the windows down, a collection of donut crumbs adorned his beard. Bell approached cautiously, stopped beside Jason’s vehicle, and rolled down his own window. The sight before him revealed a sleepy old man, seemingly lost in a deep slumber, a trail of drool forming a tiny puddle on his chin.

Bellamy lightly tapped the horn on his steering wheel, causing Jason to startle in his vehicle. Startled and disoriented, Jason let out a series of stuttering grunts as he frantically patted his rumpled uniform. His weary gaze gradually landed on Bellamy, who sat calmly in the adjacent cruiser. A wave of relief washed over Jason’s face as he settled back into his seat with an audible sigh. Chuckling softly, he absentmindedly scratched the remaining crumbs from his bearded face.

“Aye, you had me thinking you was Max. Nearly gave me a heart attack, Bell.” His thick southern accent came out. It was a dead giveaway that Jason was from the deep south of the USA.

“You’re lucky it was me, old man. Max would have given you hell for sleeping on shift.”

“Just... don’t mention it to him, m’kay kiddo? It’ll be our little secret.” Jason put a calloused finger to his lips with a playful wink. Bellamy rolled his eyes and put the cruiser back into drive, leaving Jason to finish his shift... or rather his nap.

Soon, Bell steered his vehicle to a stop in front of a large but dilapidated brick building. Despite its grandeur, the building’s exterior showed signs of neglect, with shriveled bushes desperately trying to offer a semblance of hospitality. As the wind blew, two flags fluttered gracefully on towering poles on the roof. One was the unmistakable Canadian flag, proudly representing the nation, while the other was the Ontario provincial flag, symbolizing the region’s distinct identity.

Stepping out of his vehicle, Bell noticed another cruiser pulling into the lot behind him. It had large black and gold letters reading ‘Sheriff’ on both of the front doors. A tall, burly man parked next to Bellamy before getting out. He painted the stereotypical picture of a rough and rugged cop. With his short, nearly buzz cut hair, broad shoulders and aviator sunglasses, he looked almost like he stepped out of a movie shoot instead of a cop cruiser.

“Evening, Bell,” the sheriff grumbled, extracting a pack of cigarettes from his front breast pocket and pulling out two smokes. He extended one to Bellamy, who accepted it graciously. With a silver-plated zippo lighter, the sheriff ignited both their cigarettes, the flame dancing briefly in the dim light.

“In for a long night, huh?” Bellamy mused, smoke curling from his lips. The sheriff and his deputy strolled across the small parking lot, making their way toward the imposing building.

“Should be a slow one. Not much ever happens around here,” the sheriff muttered, taking another drag from his cigarette. Bellamy nodded, tucking one hand into his pocket as they continued their walk. Ascending the stone steps, they stood side by side on the landing, sharing a moment of quietness while puffing on their cigarettes. The sun had nearly vanished, leaving behind a darkened sky with the faint hollow of a moon barely visible in the distance.

After taking the final drag of his cigarette, Bellamy extinguished it on the side of the building before carelessly tossing the butt into a withered bush. Offering an unspoken gesture of respect to his superior, he moved briskly toward the imposing front door. The heavy door yielded to his forceful push, allowing him to enter the department.

Stepping into the spacious entrance hall, Bellamy found himself surrounded by an open space adorned with two archways. Between them was a desk behind which sat a petite but impeccably groomed woman. Her jet-black hair fell in elegant curls, framing her face. The smoothness of her umber complexion was complemented by cool undertones, adding to the allure of her appearance. A dash of red wine lipstick added a touch of boldness to her overall appearance.

“I got a big one tonight, Bellamy. I hope you got enough rest. It’s a doozy.” The woman said, looking up for only a second, but her eyes returned to her computer. Bell held in the groan that was growing in his chest.

“What is it, Tati? Stolen vehicle? Robbery?”

“It’s on your desk.” Tati’s voice lacked any inflection as the Sheriff strode into the room, the weighty door slamming shut behind him. Tati offered a perfunctory greeting before extending a folder towards him. Bellamy let out an exasperated sigh. While Tati wasn’t intentionally unkind, her demeanor was undeniably tense. She operated with a strict, no-nonsense approach, leaving little room for frivolity or excuses. She was often stern with Bellamy, but he never really knew why.

Bellamy wandered off, heading through one of the arches. It led to a long hallway, which several doors lined the walls. Bell opened the door to one of the rooms and stepped inside. There was a small desk that was littered with stacks of papers and files. An older computer sat on the desk. Sitting on the key board, there was a new yellow folder.

Bell picked up the folder, sitting in the chair behind his desk.Opening the file, Bellamy made a gruesome discovery.

Several photos inside the folder depicted a beautiful young woman.Her file photo was a high school picture from two years prior.She had gorgeous blonde curls that framed her heart shaped face. She had a cute, upturned nose with luscious thick lips. She was no older than Bellamy, maybe in her mid twenties. Her name was Isabella Moriano.

The next handful of photos were of horrific origin. Multiple shots of her lifeless body strewn across the forest floor. Her throat was slashed. Her chest cavity was gaping open, and her broken rips stuck out at odd, unnatural angles. It was a sight that made Bellamy have to look away. He covered his mouth, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, before returning to the gore infested file. A kid found her body just outside Rockmill’s border. Her organs had been viciously removed, leaving her an empty husk.

Bellamy jumped in his chair as the door to his office opened. The sheriff stood in the doorway, holding his own file folder, propped open in his arms. He looked concerned, an emotion that Bellamy did not often see on his stoic face. The lines in his forehead were extenuated by his expression.

“This is… bad.” the sheriff closed the folder, leaning on the door frame. Bell took another look down at his folder, grimacing.

“I… can’t believe this… Who found her? What the hell happened, Max?”

“Beth was the first to arrive at the scene,” Max relayed, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and shock. “It seems that two children who were playing in the woods stumbled upon her body. There was no attempt to conceal her... It appears she passed away sometime yesterday or last night.”

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on Bell, causing him to avert his gaze once more. The graphic photos had taken a toll on him, leaving him feeling queasy and unsettled. He closed the file, pushing it away as if to distance himself from the disturbing images. Max let out a weary sigh, absently scratching his beard beneath his chin before finding the words to speak.

“Whatever or whoever did this… They meant business. And now we need to show them that we mean business as well.”

Behind Max, another man came into view of the door. He also had a file under his arm.The man was about Bellamy’s height. He was clean shaven with dull blue eyes that looked more like a steel grey. He had a very rectangular face, and the man had bags under his eyes, implying he’d spent regular nights at the department.

“Are you guys seeing this?” he asked, the shock apparent in his voice as he held up his folder, “How the hell does this happen in Rockmill? Seriously?”

“Bell, I want you and Tony to go find Jason. Head up to the dump site. Take some floodlights with you. If you find the weapon or anything I wanna know.” The sheriff stated. Bellamy nodded to his superior, standing up from his desk.Max moved from his spot in the doorway and Bellamy joined Tony.