UNHINGED: part One PART ONE: I love my car! I said to myself as I make my way to work. I'm driving a Nissan Juke, this truly is a chunky beast. A monster of a car that makes you think your the king of the road. I look down at my temperature gauge, minus one. Jesus, this arctic weather better bugger off soon. I say to myself. Thirty minutes ago I was woken up from a wonderful slumber by the sound of my phone rattling out its ringtone that shattered the peace and quiet that enveloped my home. "Hello." Is said in groggy voice. "COTTON!" It was Det Jack Stone my partner. " we've had a call, you need to meet me at the HOTTIES." I hate the hotties, this is a local area in town where the dregs of society go to take drugs and pimp themselves out. During the day though, the area was mostly used by people fishing, hopeful fools who think a fish could live in a stream of water that's so polluted ever colour is represented in the current, Even if they found a fish it would most Likely have three eyes. My name is Miranda Cotton and I'm a detective in my home town of st.helens, a medium sized industrial town that has been ravaged by the decay of the industrial downfall in this country. Years ago, St.helens was a major coal mining town in the north west of England, that was before the Tory government of the 1980s decided to screw over the population of the country, and closed down all the mines. My dad was miner, when he lost his job, he struggled to find other work. He was once a proud man, like all miners were. He ended up a wreck of a man, dependant upon the bottle. I am thinking of him now and how in 1996 my dad, the man I worshiped and adored died a broken, wreck of a man who had lost everything. I blame Margret Thatcher and Arthur Scargill for his decline; and I will never forgive them either. I shake the thoughts of my dad out of my head and continue to drive past the local swimming baths, which are in an ugly brown brick building. Yet again the council are making improvements to the building, regardless of the fact that no matter how much work they do too the building it will always be an ugly eyesore. I make my way around the sharpe right bend of the duel carriage way. With the blue light flashing on my car, I speed through two sets of traffic lights that have their red lights lit up. I'm in a hurry, this crime scene needs my attention and that's what it's going to get. I pride myself on being good at my job, I'm dedicated to righting wrongs and catching the people who are responsible for the crimes. All I know is that I am attending a suspected murder scene, that's all the information I have. I look down at my mobile and press and hold the number 3 button, I dial Jack's number and put the phone on speaker. " Hi, How far away are you?" "I'm at the roundabout at the Ravenhead retail park, which end of the Hotties are you?" I replied. " we are about five hundred yards from the car park." Jack answers. " I will park on the old supermarket car park, meet me there." I say,. To which he replies with his usual ok. I hang up the telephone as I turn off the roundabout and make my way down the bypass. The council said it would ease congestion, however since it opened over eight years ago the steady stream of traffic has increased causing mayhem at rush hour, luckily enough I am the only one on this road. Finally I make my way onto the car park and come to a stop in a parking space nearest to the multi story car park. I see Jack standing there, smoking a cigarette as he waits for me. I climb out the car and make my way towards him. The cold, bitter wind is whipping at my face turning my nose red, the snow has built up over the night forming big piles of the horrible white stuff. I walk to over to him, jack takes a drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke. "This is not good" he says. "The poor fella was tortured, his body is a complete mess." He looks down at the ground. "I hate this shit." Without saying another word, Jack turns around and starts making his way down the snow covered path. " About an hour and twenty minutes ago, the body of the victim was discovered by a jogger." He starts to fill me in. We make our way further down the footpath. I only hope this crime scene hasn't been tampered with; you won't believe how many end up being tampered with before we get to them. We arrive at the scene, what I am greeted with is horrendous, the victim had been subjected to terrible injuries and what can only be considered as torture. "Right, lets get started." I say and take out my voice recorder and press the record button. "Victim male, around 45 to 50 years of age, his hair is short and in a short back and sides style hair cut. The Victim, subjected to trauma to both face and body. No sign of blood at the scene, strange symbols has been cut into the victims flesh." I look at the scene again before turning to the crime scene tech team. "Has the blood been washed away?" I ask the. The reply that came was what I was expecting. "No! We think the body was dumped here, but killed someplace else." It scares me to think that nothing shocks me, I have seen the worst side of human behaviour, I'm no longer affected by how cruel we humans can be to each other. I continue with the scene analysis. "The strange symbols look like they are of the occult. The wounds are deep, and it looks like some time was taken into the making of these. Look into possible cults or groups that are new to area." I pause the recorder and look at the crime scene photographer. " Hi George, how are you?" George Meeker is the best crime scene photographer I know, he doesn't miss a thing. The only problem with him is that George is a miserable bastard. "Same as usual, shit" he replied. " what do u need to do before I can look under the body." He ponders this before he says he will be another five minutes. I decide to let him get on with it and I make my over to my partner. " I'm thinking off getting out the Job Miranda." "What! Why? You love this job." I say, really surprised by his latest confession. " your right I do, I just..." He pauses as though trying to find the correct words. " I'm sick of this shit". I think he failed to find the right words but it is apt for this situation. " I mean, all we see is death and destruction. In the last two years I have given the news to twenty six families that someone they loved was murdered." He sighs "I know" that is all I can say, nothing I say will change his mind. I will be sad to see him go; but seeing him like this is something new. I have never heard him say that before. I stand by my partner, I will be sad to see him go, Jack is a good cop. George walks up to us, he has finished. " I'll take the lead." I say and make my way to the body. Jack and I turn him over, his back is in no better state, the flesh is hanging off his back, muscles hang out of the devastating cuts. I look at the ground and that is when I see it, a business card. END OF PART ONE: