Murder at McDonald's by Phonse; Jessome Page B

he had hoped to create. “I don’t know. I was, like, in back having a smoke, and I heard a shot.”
    â€œWere you inside the restaurant or outside?”
    This was Wood’s chance to explain the bag. “I was outside with the door, like, the doors are open, and the metal door there. All I heard was ‘Bang!’ and it was, like, from inside.”
    Jesty asked for Wood’s address and phone number; he felt he had a witness on the line. Wood gave the officer the address and number of his brother’s apartment in Sydney. The teenager was staying there, but would soon have to leave; like many other young Cape Bretoners, Derek’s brother David had lost his job and decided to move away from the island in search of work. Just as Wood asked what he should do next, Jesty was interrupted by a call from Corporal John Trickett, whom he had phoned after hearing Kevin Cleary’s transmission indicating several people were injured at the scene. Jesty knew Trickett and his police dog, Storm, would be needed, and now the dog master was en route to the restaurant, wanting to know what he was driving into—was there any danger, or could he take Storm directly to the building? Trickett usually had time to get such information earlier, but he lived only moments from the restaurant and knew he’d be there before he had a chance to gather his thoughts. As Jesty informed Trickett he was not yet certain of the situation, the radio came alive with other requests from the officers at McDonald’s. Jesty had his hands full, so he told Derek Wood to go home, where officers would contact him in the morning. In fact, the police attempted to reach him within the hour, but Wood had not gone back to his brother’s place.
    While Derek Wood was reporting the shooting at McDonald’s, Kevin Cleary and Henry Jantzen were discovering its horrifying aftermath. Once they had moved a few feet inside the doorway, the two officers parted. Jantzen headed down the stairs and slowly pushed the steel door open, looking to see if anyone was waiting for him on the other side. What he found was Arlene MacNeil, gasping for breath; she was inhaling blood from a puddle that had formed around her face on the floor. He rolled her over to ease her breathing, then notified Cleary by portable radio that he was standing guard over a victim who showed strong signs of life and needed medical attention, and fast. Upstairs, Kevin Cleary moved slowly, turning to the right around a corner near the entrance to the drive-through service area, his body in a crouched position as he proceeded. The restaurant had to be secured before he could let the ambulance attendants come in. First he saw blood on the floor, and then, as he inched closer, he saw Neil Burroughs.
    The pool of blood was still widening around the fallen man’s body, but there were no signs of life. Just then, Cleary noticed an unusually powerful odour, something he had never encountered in any of the murder investigations he had carried out in the past. Then he realized what it was—a smell of fresh blood and gunpowder, a sickening combination, which he would never forget. The realization reinforced his biggest fear, that he was at a crime scene so fresh that the criminal or criminals were still inside. After seeing Jimmy Fagan and Neil Burroughs, Kevin Cleary realized he was dealing with killers like none he’d ever contemplated. At any moment, he could join the victims on the floor with a bullet in his head: whoever was responsible would not stop at killing a cop.
    Every nerve in Cleary’s body tingled as he continued his crouched advance towards the front of the restaurant, sweeping his gun ahead of him at every step. He turned left and found himself inside the main service area of the restaurant; tucking his head down, below the counter that held the cash registers, he made his way to the other side of the kitchen. At the far end of the service counter he