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Cars honked and sputtered as they maneuvered the bottleneck created by the crime scene. The grey sky swelled as the downpour worsened, blocking out any hint of sun. Rain filled puddles mirrored the amber lights from the Sichuan café across the way, a small respite from the dreary January weather.

 Detective Javier Torres pushed his glasses up and peered down at the body sprawled before him. Rain pummeled the back of his neck as he crouched, squinting at the caked blood and matted reddish-brown hair streaking across the victim’s face.

Female, mixed race, probably in her late 20s, he guessed, moving her hair with his gloved hand. Neck twisted, head angled up, wound at the back of the skull. She was pushed with enough force to send her head first over two lanes of traffic. Her sightless gaze, fixed on a point beyond his shoulder, revealed a pair of murky green eyes. He inhaled, noting the cloudiness and blotchy blood vessels before closing them. She would have seen her attacker.  

Could it have been an accident? A hurried shove on the sidewalk to avoid the rain? Javier pressed his lips together and frowned. No. Force like this was intentional and formidable. Someone…or something did this with purpose.

The victim wore a burnt orange anorak over a pair of dark brown corduroy overalls. A pair of goggles, bronze, steampunk-looking things hung around her neck. From the tarnish and scratches, Javier could see they were more than just an accessory. Mechanic? One arm over her head, the other? Tucked beneath—no, not beneath, her hand was in her pocket. Strange. The victim didn’t try to brace herself? Javier pulled her hand free. Her arm was cold and limp—stiffness barely setting in, combined with the segmentation of blood in her eyes… that would make time of death within the last hour, maybe two. At least that matched the commuter’s story.

He searched her pockets, no phone, no wallet, nothing but a small notebook and a leather pouch. Javier unknotted the drawstring top—seeds? Who carries a leather pouch of seeds around with them? He lifted the bag to his nose and sniffed. The aroma of fresh dirt, newly cut grass, and something else…strawberries, tickled his nose. He didn’t note any thing suspicious, but his knowledge of poisonous or drug related plants was limited. Forensics would be able to identify the mix.

Javier looked up, shielding his eyes from the rain and noted the anxious commuter seated in the back of the ambulance. He needed to question him. According to the officer first on-scene, the man in the Prius didn’t see the woman. He felt her slam into the hood of his car and roll off, cracking her skull on the pavement.

As if she fell from the sky.