Their crime scene was peculiar to say the least.
Shrugging off the damp cold of the rainy March morning, or dead of the night, depending on which detective one asked, Steve wrapped his beige trench coat tighter around his chest, his arms below it growing tired of having done so for the past half hour as they watched Bernie work away in professional, albeit slow, meticulousness.
Next to him, Mike stood in perfect stillness, his vigilant blue eyes following the ME's every move as the coroner walked back into the delivery truck, disrupting the flow of ice-cold air escaping from the freezer section into the night sky as he did so.
The narrow aisle dividing the cargo sections left barely enough room for one person to move around in, and the groaning suspension of the old, rusted out vehicle convinced the rest of them to sit tight until the initial investigative work was done.
Steve glanced around, noting a significant assortment of onlookers crowding the yellow tape that was cordoning off their crime scene; people who should be in bed this time a night but decided to feed their morbid curiosity instead.
A few of them seemed to have an engaged conversation about the police commotion, perhaps even knowing Mike from the nightly news, when they repeatedly pointed at the iconic duo standing behind the delivery truck.
Bernie's broad shoulders and tall frame left little room to see what was going on, until the ME began to carefully remove a shelf of frozen product, his rubber gloves sticking to the metal cage as he backed out of the truck, holding the precious cargo close to his body.
Mike didn't waste any time and pushed the crime lab's rolling cart next to the delivery van a little closer, allowing for the ME to lower the tray onto the metal shelf.
"It's not a first, but it's a close second when it comes to ingenuity, Lieutenant.", Bernie breathed as he retrieved his cold hands, and quickly shoved them into the pockets of his thick maroon overcoat, before shifting from one foot to the other to create some heat.
As the coroner stepped back to make room for the detectives to take a look, it was Mike who bent over the poultry products wrapped in clear plastic, his face only inches away.
"What are these? Jumbo broiler chickens? Am I reading this correctly?", the Lieutenant asked and made room for his partner to join him by his side.
"Looks to be a tray of twelve of them…", Steve countered and brushed the frost off one of the labels to get a better look, "Nappanee County Chicken Farm, farm fresh free-range young broilers, Nappanee Indiana."
Next to him, Mike grunted, before pointing at the far-left corner.
"Except, one of these is not like the others…"
Following his lead, Steve peeked over his partner's shoulder, unnerved to find out that one of the frozen chickens had a different shape than the other eleven. Despite the farm label covering most of the top of it, beneath the plastic wrap, he could make out the shape of a human head.