The Sound Of Night----------By: BJ Wolf

The low laying cloud's are doing their job of keeping the interstate clocked in shadows. Paired with the dense fog visibility on Interstate 90 has been reduced to about thirty feet. Although Clark Hartford has traveled this road countless times, tonight is different.there is a charge in the air. An electric current coursing through his bone's. The Ponderosa pine's that line the Interstate are little more than a constant blur as the speedometer reaches eighty-five. The light cast forth from the headlight's seem to bounce off the fog only to return to his retinas in the form of a blinding light. Without taking his eye's from the fog shrouded Interstate, Clark reaches for the dash mounted radio. "Two-Eight-Seven to base, come back. A slight pause than, "Base to Two-Eight-Seven, go ahead." Clark depresses the button on the side of the handheld. "I need an update on the situation out here. What am i getting myself into?" "Base to two-Eight-Seven, that is a negitive.Still only have the initial report of a body found. The caller remained anonymous. Traced back to a pay phone in the 76 parking lot." Clark know's Lonnie, the dispatcher on the eleven to seven shift, and know's that if any additional info came over the wire he would be the first to know. Had to be the first to know. The call had come from such a desolate location in washington-back up was still twenty minutes out- while he was quickly coming up on the scene. Clark is able to tear his eye's from the Interstate long enough to glimpse the 76 station he correctly assumes the call originated from. At three thirty in the morning the establishment is well past closing. He could see no trace off life at the station. There again that charged feeling coursing through his bone's. A quick left, with tire's screetching, barely holding the wet pavement. Another left, and he come's skidding to a stop at the entrance of Scenic View Campground. He radio's to base his arrival time off Three Thirty Three, and does not wait for a response before he jump's out of the cruisier. The first thing Clark notices is that the gate is shut, and locked. A winding river of questions flow through his mind. How was the body found at this hour, in a campground that has been shut down at least a month due to the inconsistant weather of Washington. Who placed the 911 call. Endless questions ti which he has no answer's untill a formal investigation could get underway. The second thing Clark notice's is the pay phone located outside the locked gate. Why waste all that time going down the road when the caller could have been placed the call from right here.More question's, no answer's. He think's to himself. He walk's over to the pay phoneand pick's up the reciever. sure enough the dial tone greet's him. Even more question's spilling over the bank of his thought's. The third thing he notice's as he turn's around is the hooded figure with a crossbow pointed directly at his face. Instinct take's over and Clark reaches for his department issue nine mm. It is all for not he realizes as he hear's the snap of the trigger on the crossbow. the last thing Clark see's is a shimmer of moonlight glittering off the top of the silver arrow that pierce'shis larynx. Goes through his throat and pin's him to the thin metal backing of the payphone. The last thing he hear's is the sound of the night and he realizes that for him there will be no more night's. "Do not mess with me today Lonnie." Lonnie has been in the department for the last five year's. Everyone knew that when it pertained to his job Lonnie never messes around. Hell even when he is not working he does not joke much. Lonnie stare's up at Detective Wright. Literally stare's up at him. Although they are both standing, Detective Bradley Wright (Brad, never Bradley if you knew what was good for you.) stood six ft two in, and compressed the spring's on a scale to the tune of two hundred and thirty pounds, with what appeared to be all muscle. Detective Wright's cobalt eye's implore Lonnie to be playing some kind of sick joke, Although they both know that when it came to a fellow officer's life there is no joking in the department. "Sir the transmission came across at three fifty two a.m." Lonnie loathes telling him the next part. Nevertheless he continues on. "Officer Hartford was found stripped of his clothes. He has what appears to be an arrow of some type through his throat, which in turn has him pinned to the booth." Lonnie's eye's are downcast, studying the linoleumas if he has found a map to the lost city of gold. Detective Wright's voice boom's at him from above; "I want you on that damn radio! tell those guy's to get officer Hartford down from there immediatly. I will not have one of my officer's crucified in a fucking phone booth!" Lonnie's lack of immediate action seem's to infuriate him."NOW!" Detective Wright thunder's. Lonnie brave's a glance upward. "Well... you see sir they... we can't seem to get him down. The arrow is made up of some type of metal. It is going to have to be cut off." He chances another glance, does not like what he see's and goes back to studying his map. "forensics are on the way. they have assured me that they are equipped to handle the situation." With that Detective Wright spin's on his heel's and is heading down the hallway with not another word spoken. Back in his office Wright grab's the phone and dial's direct, patrolman Jenkin's out at the scene. "Jenkin's here." his ear pressed tight to the phone to cut out the wind he hears Wright on the other end, sounding none to pleased. "What's the situation out there?" "Hey chief. it's not good. We have about a dozen cop's out here and we can't do a damn thing untill forensics show up." Jenkin's informs him. "how far out are they?"Detective Wright ask's. "About five minutes boss." "I'm on my way, in the mean time do not let anyone near that scene. As soon as those forensics guy's show up, I want your foot up their ass about getting Clark down from there. you understand me?" "Yes sir, their pulling up right now, I'm on it jenkin's say's. Wright hang's up the phone and collapses into his roll around office chair. He reaches down, and slides open the bottom drawer of his desk. Inside is a red leather satchel with the name, phone number's, and current addresses of every officer in the department. He has two stop's to make, and neither one of them is going to be pleasant.