Triple Digits

Corey Strickland

Photo after photo, seized by police with warrants who had hunted down a number of the people present at the race last night thanks to Corey's descriptions of some of the attending teenagers, were slapped down on the table before Corey, Gregory Dunfield shaking his head at the addition of each one. They all showed Jaivon Carter, the twenty-year-old street-racer, dead across his bonnet. Once the photos of his dead, lifeless face had circulated the internet, put there by sensationalist news writers for the small town, or by idiot teenagers who had nothing better to do than send photos of a dead man to their mates for a laugh, it had not taken long for someone to ID him. The message had been anonymous, left behind by what was likely another street-racer, possibly Triple Digit herself, since she'd been the first to reach the scene of the crash and see his body. The poor woman had thrown up everywhere in the mud at the sight.
Corey felt like he was going to be sick to his stomach. Again.
Twenty. Barely even out of high school, and he was dead, his life snuffed out in an idiotic race. Corey had gotten no sleep since the three o'clock crash that had taken a young man's life, although he had gone home and tried. It had been impossible, sleep chased out of reach by the images of not one, but two violent crashes. Claire Miles, and Jaivon Carter.
For the latter, the accident had been fatal.
"This is nothing short of a tragedy," Mr. Dunfield sighed heavily, shaking his head. Corey agreed with him.
"Has the family been notified?"
"There was no family to notify, Sir," the officer who laid the photos out said quietly, "It seems Mr. Carter was alone here in Mid-City."
"Gods above... I want a full state funeral for the boy. He will be laid to rest with a proper tombstone in the Mid-City cemetery. His death should be broadcasted on the news, both to mourn him publicly, and to remind the citizens of Mid-City that this is the consequence to street-racing. Death. Corey, you said you were the first police responder at the body, and the one who called in the crash?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You were present at the races last night?" Gregory Dunfield's interrogation stare was enough to melt the arctic, Corey thought.
"Yes, Sir. I was searching for Triple Digit, Sir."
"Go home and rest, Strickland. There's nothing to investigate here. The boy thought the hairpin turn was sooner than it was, turned into the ditch, and since he wasn't wearing a seatbelt, he was flung through his windshield and killed on impact. Better yet, go and check on Miss Miles, and then get some sleep."
"Yes, Sir." Something weighed down at Corey even as he rose, though, and it wasn't just the exhaustion.
"Sir?"
Mr. Dunfield turned, arching an eyebrow, and Corey stammered, "Quickshift- Jaivon Carter, he was wearing a seatbelt last night. I saw him. He checked it before every race." The boy had been meticulous with his safety.
"Then he must have taken it off at the last second, because he would not have been flung through the window if he had been."
"Unless it had been tampered with, Sir."
"What? Are you suggesting this crash was foul play?"
Call it gut instinct, but... Yes. Just looking at the photos of Jaivon, and having seen the way his car turned so suddenly, like someone else had turned the wheel, Corey just had this feeling curling deep into his very bones. Something was wrong about the way Jaivon had died.
Gregory Dunfield paused, and Corey mumbled, "I just think it would be wise to leave no stone unturned. A young man died here in Mid-City last night. His death should be properly investigated."
Nodding slowly, Mr. Dunfield said, "Very well, son. I'll have a coroner's report done up and sent to you by the end of the day. Until then, go to Miss Miles' home, and get some rest once you've checked up on her."
Corey doubted he was coherent enough to drive, and without a police car to take him, since Triple Digit had abandoned his car at the venue last night, he had to rely on yet another taxi.
The driver made fun of him the entire way over to Miss Miles' apartment...