"Just this scrap of paper on the front seat, Sir."
The Inspector looked again and again at the registration. "The driver?"
"No sign. Somebody reported a baby crying."
"How long ago?"
The first spring foliage drooped from the skeletons of the winter wood. The sun splintered in spectrum from blue to green and it was bitterly cold. Ice creaked and cracked on the lake where it had shattered.
"We'll need frogmen and forensics here."
"I'll get on it."
Bertle went off to find a better signal. Inspector Fox peered into the box on the back seat. The baby looked up and gurgled. It had her eyes.
He reread the note over and over - not wanting to take it in.
finally took responsibility
for my own life dad
he deserves his
don't be too harsh
Fox crumpled inside, just like the note in his hand.
submitted at 8:51am
13 December 2011
Oonah V Joslin's web: