The Keyword of the week | Experience and excessive calm.

It was almost 10 p.m. on October 4, and until then, it seemed like a quiet evening. I expected to complete my shift without any mishaps; the excessive calm indicated that this would be the case. I gave routine instructions to my subordinates, and they followed them without any problems.

The highway was so quiet that it was unusual. “So much calm is not good,” I thought as I looked at the road and noticed that there was practically no traffic. My years of experience told me that when there is excessive serenity, some unexpected event disturbs it.

Soon, around 11 p.m., a driver's report changed that perception. It was a truck driver who provided tow truck service on that stretch of highway, someone we all knew well given the nature of our work.

“There's a body abandoned on the side of the road very close to here,” said the driver; his usually smiling face was serious and as white as a sheet of paper.

That information was impossible to ignore; it was an event that warranted an immediate response.

“Where is it?” I asked.

“At the exit of the interchange, heading west. I know because I stopped to take a leak and saw it. It's lying in the ditch, dead and completely naked,” he replied, visibly upset.

After receiving those details, there wasn't much to analyze; it was necessary to verify the information in order to begin the corresponding legal procedure.

“Take down the driver's details, including his phone number,” I instructed one of my assistants.

“Please stay in touch! I'll call you if necessary,” I told the driver.

We then headed to the location on our assigned motorcycles to patrol the area. Once at the intersection, we proceeded to check the side of the road with flashlights in hand. At that time of night, the place seemed very lonely and dark, with no vehicles passing by. In addition, the thick fog made our search difficult.

After a few minutes of fruitless searching, one of my assistants ventured an opinion.

“There's nothing here, sir. I think we're looking in the wrong place, or the driver lied to us,” said Officer Pérez.

“No, we all saw the expressions on his face. We know he wasn't lying. Maybe he just couldn't explain it to us because he was nervous,” I replied. “Give me the driver's phone number,” I requested.

I called him with the same urgency with which I had previously requested his contact number. On the third attempt, the driver answered the phone.

“Hello?” he said.

“Mr. Pablo, we're at the distributor, but we can't find the body. Are you sure it's here?” I asked to confirm.

“Absolutely sure. I wouldn't lie about something like that,” he replied confidently.

“Okay, but could you give me more precise details? We've been looking for a while and haven't found anything,” I said.

“Yes, of course. Do you remember the truck that fell down the ravine two months ago? The one with just the father and daughter in it. Well, it's right on that same bank, just a few meters further on. You'll find a blue plastic bench on the side of the road... I think they left it there on purpose so the body could be found,” he said.

“Perfect. I know where that is. Thank you,” I said, and then hung up the phone.

“It's this way, everyone!” I told the staff accompanying me.

We quickly began a new search, and I soon noticed the last detail the driver had pointed out to me.

“There, check that edge next to the plastic bench,” I said.

“There's nothing there, sir,” Officer Sosa said after a brief moment.

“That can't be right, I have to do everything myself,” I thought, and I went over to check the spot, annoyed.

I shone my flashlight on the ditch next to that object and saw that there was nothing there. “It can't be,” I said to myself. Then I began to walk along the side of the road to the west, and after walking a few meters, I found it hidden among some bushes, as if nature itself wanted to claim it as its own.

It wasn't the body I had been looking for, but it was something that my sharp mind quickly associated with it.

The small chapel was quite deteriorated. Inside, a metal cross marked the date of the tragic end: “October 4, 2001.” “Twenty-four years have passed, and you still haven't reached the light to rest,” I thought as I contemplated that memorial. “You gave that truck driver quite a scare,” I said to myself, smiled, and then gave instructions before we left.

“Officer Sosa, unless you want to keep looking for bodies for the next few days, make sure they clean up the area around this chapel tomorrow,” I ordered.

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• Invited @paholags, @casv, and @soulfuldreamer.
• Contest: The Keyword of the week.

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