THE EYES THAT WATCHThe first thing James Hyatt sensed upon stepping out of the car was the smell.Not the blinking lights. Not the policemen rushing here and there around the crime scene. Not even the yellow rope blocking the entrance of the derelict drugstore.The smell came first.The rain had saturated the cracked asphalt, while the cold, damp concrete had been impregnated by the city's odor after the rains. However, beneath those smells, there was one sharp odor that seemed to not fit here.Blood.The drugstore stood at the end of the deserted street as if it was the last remaining vestige of the past times. The shattered windows which used to be covered with posters and signs now reflected the alternating red and blue light flashes coming over the building.The policemen hurriedly moved here and there with professional efficiency. Some of them communicated via the radios, while the others diligently marked some spots around the entrance trying to keep whatever evidence was left.
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