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sticking out from the middle. As he goes to grab it he remembers the one thing that every cop
show agrees with. Never touch the evidence with your bare hands. Slowly, Leo retracted his
hand. The kit that Zach had given him earlier must have something in it.
As he made his way back, he thought about how his day had gone. He was clearly wrong
about what he perceived Zach's job to be. Just because he was having a miserable day and his
business isn’t great doesn’t mean that any other job is going to be better. In fact, he missed his
drawings. Today was stressful. And horrible. All he wanted to was apologize and go home. Well,
time to finish everything else off.
Leo grabbed Zach's bag. He looked inside to find what looked appropriate as far as his
TV knowledge could take him. In the end he grabbed the knife with a cloth on the sharp end and
put it into a clear, sealable plastic bag. He could only hope that this was right. That he didn’t
mess up in a major way and contaminate the evidence. He just wanted to get rid of the stench of
blood. His hands were disgusting. Leo wondered back towards the stable in an attempt to find
Zach again.
Chapter 3
Zach had to go find Leo's drawing gear, as apparently he had 'left most of it behind'. This
meant trekking all the way to Leo's car and back. By the time that he had gotten to the stables,
his kit had been moved but Leo was no where to be found.
Once he walked into the stall, Zach was engrossed with his subject matter. The once
magnificent steed lay on his side, blood poured out of the colossal wound on his side. Zach
vigilantly took a couple of steps forward, notebook in hand. He crouched in front of the body,
noticing the wounds shape and size. He noticed it's sharp edges and depth, concluding that the
death of the striking steed was indeed from a stab wound.
"No." he thought to himself. "I mustn't do my old job." Snapping out of the familiar
mindset, he quickly backed away from the bloody body to draw the body, his new, better job for
today.
He tried to recollect thoughts from his old art classes and what Leo had told him.
However, all he could remember was sitting and looking out the window. He was never very
good at art. Taking a deep breath, Zach's hand trembled over the blank page. 'I can do this he
thought' and he starting sketching his first cartoon.
His pencil flew across the page, outlining the deceased horse's figure. Grasping every
detail was essential in the success of his artwork. At last, after two hours of hard work, the
immense pressure of creating a good piece of artwork for the rich owners of the incredible steed
was finally of his mind. He stepped back and looked at his masterpiece and felt a thrill of pride.