My Final Draft for my English :P - Called "Dead on arrival"

Marc gazed down at the dead body that lay before him. It was her, alright. The assassin Marc had been trying to catch for two years had been murdered. There was an ice pick through her skull. He felt a pang of loss, somehow. He’d wanted this woman behind bars, not dead. It was the easy way out. Simon shuffled over quietly. “Are you alright, sir?” he asked, patting his superior’s shoulder. He’d only been a CSI for a couple of months, but Simon had seen enough blood and guts to sink a boat.
“Yes.” Marc spun around to face him. “I’m fine, and don’t call me sir. Just Marc is fine.”
“Yes, Marc. No problem. Sorry.” Simon stuttered. Marc didn’t much care for newbies. They were all so weak, they lacked confidence. He didn’t have the time for them.
“Hey, Marc?” called Darla.
“Yeah?” he tried not to look at the bloody corpse.
“We’ve got to get this to the lab, do you mind?” She asked, moving him to one side.
“Not at all.” He said, stepping away. The body bag was zipped up.
“Any thoughts?” asked Darla, as she tagged the bag.
“This woman was a trained assassin.” said Marc. “How could someone kill an assassin?”
“Maybe someone in the army. I hear they get trained pretty well.” Darla said, turning around.
Marc smiled slowly. “I think we just got our lead.”


“This is Charles Brown. He was the mayor’s son, and he served in the army for ten years. Plus, get this: he works part time as a mountain climbing instructor.” said Don.
“Access to ice picks.” nodded Mac.
“Exactly.” said Don. “Good luck.”
Marc peered though the glass. Charlie was sat there, twiddling his thumbs. Marc went inside the room.
“Hey.” Charlie nodded at him. Marc sat down.
“Hey, Charlie. Good to see you again.”
“Good to see you too. Just out of curiosity, why am I here?”
“One count of first degree murder.” Marc sighed, flicking though papers. He pulled out a photograph and thrust it at Charlie. “This is the woman who killed your father. We found her this morning.”
Charlie looked at the picture, his eyes wide. He spat on it in disgust and wiped his mouth clean. He made a face.
“Good. I didn’t kill her, but I’d like to meet whoever did. So I can shake their hand.”
“We have some evidence which points to you.”
“Oh, really? What evidence? What evidence, Marc?! She’s dead, so you just assume I’m responsible, is that it? You cops are like cavemen. No direction. Tell me honestly, Marc. Do I look like a killer to you?! Hell, my Dad was murdered! I’m not about to go and kill somebody too! I wouldn’t sink so low. I’m above this shit.”
Marc sighed and rubbed his forehead, as the door opened.

“Hey, Marc. Some interesting news.” said Danny.
Marc stormed out of the room to meet with him.
“What the hell, Danny? I was in the middle of an interrogation back there!” he shouted, swinging his arm back.
“You won’t need it. It’s not her.”
“What?”
“It’s not our assassin. Come with me, I’ll show you.”
Marc followed Danny into the morgue.
“See this?” Danny asked, pulling at the girl’s face. “Surgery – and lots of it. I did DNA, and it came back as someone called Charlotte Louise. She looks different in this picture, probably had a face lift, reconstructive surgery, Botox – the works. According to the network, she went missing a few days ago. No family. A friend filed the report. I think our assassin used this girl to fake her own death.”
Marc gazed at the photo on the screen.
“She chose her because they look similar, then made her have surgery so they would look identical, and throw us off the scent.”
Don nodded. “That’s the theory.” Don moved along to the feet of the corpse. “...and even weirder, there are bruises around her wrists and ankles. I’m thinking she was bound to something… maybe a bed. Most likely in a hospital. She’s had surgery, so she could have been held at some kind of abandoned hospital – where nobody could hear he cries.”
Marc smiled. “There’s an abandoned hospital on 5th Avenue.”

“Marc! We’ve got a body!” yelled Darla. “He’s our surgeon.” The corpse was on the floor, with blood dried on to his clothes. “I’d say he’s been dead about 10 – 14 hours, but it’s hard to tell in this heat.”
Blood was splattered all over the walls and floor, and over a bed in the corner. “She was held here.” said Darla, flipping over the mattress. There was a pool of dry blood.
“Good work.” nodded Marc. “What’s that in his eye?” Marc asked, bending down.
“It’s a camera.” Darla said, kneeling down next to him.
“She’s watching us.”

A woman sat alone with her laptop, staring at the screen.
“Darla, she’s watching us. Cut the cord!” It was saying. The woman smirked, and the screen turned black.

Darla kissed Marc’s forehead gently. “I know you’re worried Marc, but she can’t get us. We just follow the clues, find the answers. It’s what we’re paid for.”
“I know.” said Marc, standing up. “But this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me.”
“I know.” whispered Darla.
“Then you’ll know how it ended too. I won’t lose anyone else.” Marc said, walking away.



Marc sat at the bar alone. “Hey, Marc. You want to join us?” called Don from a table. Marc raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, I might just do that. I’ve got nothing better to do.” He sighed, taking a seat at the table.
“This case is really getting to you, huh?” asked Don.
“I’ve been trying to catch her for two years, Don. Yeah, it’s getting to me. People are dying because I couldn’t catch her two years ago. They are dying, and it’s my fault.” sighed Marc, sipping his beer.
“It’s not your fault.” Simon piped in. “She’s the one going around killing people.”
“I had an opportunity to catch her though, and I couldn’t. Know why?” Simon shook his head. “I was drunk on the job, that’s why. I hit a rough patch when Jean left me, and as a result four people have been murdered. Four.” Marc looked away. “You’ll understand when you’ve been in the job a bit longer. You’ll get the guilt, the whole package. Just wait.”
Don laughed nervously. “Hey! You’re bringing the mood down, lighten up, Marc!” he sighed heavily. “Can I get you another drink?”
“Please.” Marc nodded.

“My name is Detective Marc Tyler.”
Marc spun around in surprise. A computer generated version of him was on the big screen in the corner.
“I’m a CSI at the New York crime lab.” It boomed.
Suddenly the image changed. It was another computer generated person. The assassin. “Catch me if you can.” The screen went blank.

“I want a security lockdown now!” yelled Marc. “She’s here somewhere, and she knows I’m here.” There was another camera.

Danny brought in a laptop, and sat at his desk. He was convinced he could hack in to the assassin’s computer through the network. All he needed was the IP address. He turned on a lamp and got to work.

The next day, marc arrived at the crime lab with a smile on his face. Danny had just paged him, which always meant new evidence. He swung open Danny’s office door.
“Guess what?” Danny squeaked, like an excitable child.
“What?” Marc replied, playing along.
“I think I have a way to lure our assassin in.” he grinned.
“Oh?”
“Now, she chooses her victims by looking up keywords, from online conversations. Just to see who’s in need of her…. Ermm… services.”
“So, if we set up a few untraceable email addresses, spark off some drama… she’ll take the bait?”
“Hopefully.”
“Do it.”
“No worries.” said Danny, sitting down by his computer.

A woman sat at her computer on the other side of town, clicking on to instant messaging, browsing conversations. ‘sexyguy101’ was online, speaking to ‘bustyhousewife277’. “We need your husband gone.” typed sexyguy101. “How?”

“Marc!” called Danny. “We got her.”
“Okay, what now?” Marc asked.
“Well, she’s saying she’ll meet bustyhousewife277 today at 10am, outside the library on 7th.”
“Busty housewife?”
“I was just putting words together.”
“Right, well, it doesn’t matter. Call Darla and tell her we’ll meet her on 7th in half an hour.”


The street was bustling with people as Darla sat on the sidewalk. The team hid around her, blending into the crowd.
“That’s her.” Marc whispered into his police radio. “30 degrees east from me.” Darla looked to her left. She was handed a note, and then the woman strutted off. ‘Don’t move.’ It read.
“It was a decoy, to make sure it’s not a trap.” Marc whispered to the radio. “Lay low.”
There she was. She sat next to Darla on the sidewalk, but marc could see a police officer approaching. “What’s he doing? Move away! He’s going to spook her.”
“He’s not one of ours.” said Don.
The assassin had spotted the officer, and ran off. Marc pulled out his gun and sprinted after her. “Stop! New York Police!” he yelled. She kept going. It wasn’t long before they reached a multi-storey parking lot. She ran up the steps, and he followed.
“Stop!” he shouted. She went on to the next storey, and turned back to shoot Marc. Marc dodged the bullet and fired a bullet himself. She tried to shoot him again, and he returned fire. The bullet went into her back, and she dropped behind a wall. She dropped her gun and Marc came up from behind and snatched it from her reach.

“Why did you do it?” he found himself asking.
“What? Kill?” she laughed shakily. “I do it for the money… and the thrill.”
“Thrill?” Marc sat down next to her.
“Those last few seconds of their lives, I love watching their eyes. It’s like a candle, burning inside them. I blow it out.” she smiled.
“What’s your name?” Marc asked.
“Who, me? I’m no-one. No name. Just a face. Many faces.”
Marc held her hand gently.
“Hey, you’re about to experience that thrill. You’ll see what I’m talking about.” she laughed and coughed. Her eyes fell and there was silence. Marc kissed her forehead and closed her eyes.
“See you in hell.”



END