Jillian Rose

Father's Son: A Short Story

Detective Jackson stepped out of his unmarked police issued vehicle and looked around. Dew had started to set on the marked police cars that cast an eerie glow along the seemingly deserted alley. The smell of urine and rot crept into his nostrils. After spending twenty years on the job he had grown accustomed to the Neon District. His terrain was often forgotten by high society and politicians making his job even more difficult.

He pulled his jacket over his body and walked through the sea of flashing lights. "What do we have tonight?" Detective Jackson said to one of the uniformed officers securing the premises.

"Another hooker," the officer said as he lifted the yellow caution tape, "if you ask me the city's better off without 'em."

"I didn't."

"Just saying, they could be out flippin' burgers or pickin' up a hotel. No need to be layin' on your back for easy money."

"There's nothing easy about this profession," Detective Jackson said as he entered the cheap hotel.

He looked around the front desk and grimaced at the state of the hotel. Mold had started to grow on the counter, attaching itself to the sign in book. Detective Jackson picked the notebook up slowly and flipped to the last page. "J.R." he said under his breath. Detective Jackson allowed his soft brown eyes to travel along the wooden staircase that led to the by the hour rooms. Of all the places and ways to die these hotels didn't even make his list. He ran his hand along the splintered banister and slowly began to climb the creaking stairs. He knew those initials. Dread began eating at the pit of his stomach. At the top of the stairs Detective Jackson looked down the hall to room thirteen. He looked along the floor and quickly realized that any evidence they would find in this place would be contaminated and worthless.

Detective Jackson lowered himself under the caution tape and looked over at the small bed. "Why is she covered up?" he asked nodding towards a white blood stained sheet.

"That's how the clerk at the desk said he found her. Her three hours were up so he came to kick her out."

"What's the T.O.D." Detective Jackson said trying to blink the neon glare of the district out of his eyes.

"The Corenor's not here yet, but my educated guess is within the last three hours. She's fresh."

Detective Jackson nodded slowly and crossed the small room and stood over the bed. "Are you done?" he asked the crime scene photographer.

She nodded slowly and said, "She's all yours. I was waiting for you before I photographed the body."

Detective Jackson nodded slowly and pulled the top of the sheet away from the victim. He looked over the body.

"Shit, she's just a baby," the photographer said. "I'll start looking into runaways and missing persons."

"No need. I know who she is. The system really let this one down."

"Who is she?"

"Jillian Rose...I think...You'll have to do dental work to be sure."

Detective Jackson turned his body slightly and looked at the money on the nightstand. He lifted it slowly and strummed through the mound of bills. "Three hundred dollars, nothing larger than a twenty."

"No, he either took it with him or used his fists."

Detective Jackson looked over at Jillian's body quickly, "Please tell me you heard that?"

"Heard what?" the photographer said looking over at him.

"I could have sworn someone said help me."