Water ran off in rills from the tarpaulin-covered roll. A sight that Lavi knew was going to haunt him later. Pistons fired, hissing in quick succession as the crane maneuvered to drop the last plastic wrapped parcel on to the back of the flat bed of the police hired pick-up truck. The others had already been moved into the tent for inspection.

"That one makes five," DC Lavi Bookman noted out loud to no one. The tip off had been correct.

Five bodies that should have woken up this morning.

Five mouths that should have kissed their loved ones goodbye before leaving for work, school, for another day of life.

"Preliminary reports suggest that what we have here are the five males, each reported missing a fortnight ago. The immigration investigation team will be moving in," DI Chalker Laboun, a gaunt looking man in his mid-thirties pushed a cheap polystyrene cup containing watery tea into Lavi's hands.

Five lives that were not his problem.

Lavi stood back surveying the scene and blinking back the shadowed edges in the periphery. Both banks of the canal had been cordoned off and a small unit of fire-personnel managed the machinery on the near side. Uniforms in bright yellow jackets were all over the place guarding the flimsy police tape borders against over-eager journalists. He took a sip of the hot liquid and grimaced.

"God bless Twitter eh? Bastards are getting up faster and faster," Laboun shook his head bitterly. The working day had barely even begun for most, not that that applied to the vultures at the press.

"You sure you want to hand this over?" The drink did nothing to remove the early morning gravel from his voice. "Five bodies, and going by the varying water damage and flora coverage, all dumped at different periods. How much you want to bet there are more down there?"

"Don't be so heartless Bookman," Laboun said grimly. "This isn't a career making moment. There's justice owed here. Don't forget that."

A uniform hailed the two detectives, alerting them to the arrival of two more dour-faced suits. Lavi didn't recognise the newcomers, not that he expected to, immigration enforcement should have been worlds away from homicide. From the looks of it they were attempting to enter the investigation tent, which was causing quite a stir. He started to follow the Detective Sergeant down to the bank but was dismissed with a wave and a shake of the head.

"Go back to the station without me," Laboun threw a set of keys at his junior. "Get a head start on all that lovely handover paperwork."

Lavi managed a grateful smile, like he was supposed to be happy that he was allowed to drive. Really he was wondering whether it would be a good idea to even drive when his head still felt so full of cotton and stuffing. Some of the uniforms waved as he passed by, nodding to some and mumbling a greeting to others. It wasn't so long ago that Lavi was one of them.

At 26 Lavi Bookman was the youngest officer to be made detective sergeant after exceptional test scores and exemplary conduct. He knew the others behind their smiles and good cheer were happy for him at first, but now a year on conversation grew stilted and interactions were nothing more than perfunctory.

The sun had risen higher in the sky, though still not enough to pierce the moist fog that clung to the air. Lavi empty the coffee into a crumpled metal bin and slipped into the drivers' seat. The engine burst into life with a growl and purred all the while Lavi adjusted the seat for his longer legs. He blew on his fingers as he waited for the engine to warm up.

Doors, mirrors, handbrake. Caffeine pills. Swallow. Done.

Violently the world through the windscreen dipped and snapped back into place. Lavi blinked several times and shook his head left and right.

Suddenly wary of the enveloping warmth Lavi pressed a button on the control panel twice. The windows rolled down with an electrical whir and Lavi rubbed his sore eyes with the heels of his palms and took a few deep steadying breaths before easing the car out of the spot and out onto the main road. The roads were still quite empty and the wind rushing in, whipping through his hair, brought the greatest refreshment Lavi had had in the last two weeks of self-imposed insomnia.

Later when he gave his report on the accident he wouldn't mention the exhaustion, the migraines or the way the world spun through the screen. Lavi was certain he would have made it back to the station without incident if it hadn't been for the little girl.

Purple haired and smiling, she waited for him in the middle of the junction. Lavi hit the horn twice to alert her to the impending danger but she did not move. The junction was coming up fast and Lavi started to slow down. Suddenly the girl caught his eye but still she did not move. Lavi tried to scream at her to get out of the way, but no breath could make it to his mouth in time. Emergency stop wouldn't be enough. Nerves on fire, Lavi swung the steering wheel to the right and reached for the handbrake at the same time.

The two-ton mass spun in a wide arc.

Inside Lavi braced himself for the impact of the stop, the seat belt cutting into his skin as it strained against the inertia. A streetlamp finally caught the vehicle in a metallic embrace, throwing Lavi bodily against door. The last thing he saw before the blackness closed in on him was the smiling face of a purple haired girl and the butterfly sitting on her shoulder.