"Heads or tails?" He asked nonchalantly, the coin dancing between his fingers.
"Head." She replied, and he raised a brow. The mixture of confusion and surprise in his eyes was doubled, but a cocky grin rose on his lips when she pulled out her gun.
A...
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Ada's Point of View
Over the course of my entire career, I had come across the weirdest crime scenes known to mankind.
But by far, none of them matched the level of bizarre that this was.
Forensic officers clad in white coats swarmed the place, their calculative eyes searching for clues, and their gloved hands grabbing at everything they found to be significant. Crime scene analysts accompanied the scientist lookalikes, with notepads in their hands, and a writing utensil in the other. Detectives like myself stood nearby me. As for the regular police officers, they created a kind of a circle and surrounded us.
And we were all standing in the middle of a fucking fundraiser venue.
My dark-brown eyes glided over the pool of blood where the body of a woman once lay. I had seen her before she was carried out of here, by the autopsy team. Her eyelids were shot open in terror. The rims of her eyes were lined with red just as the actual organs were bloodshot, as if she had been crying for days. Or perhaps she had been taking drugs, to drown out the pain she underwent. I felt strongly about the latter.
Because that used to be me once.
All of a sudden, the doors to the hall were pushed open and in stormed a large crowd, with the people inside holding either cameras or mics. A redhead guided the horde towards our circle. Her fingers were wrapped around a reporter microphone tightly with anticipation, and a smile of excitement pulled her lips.
Anger flared my nostrils. I wondered how they were let in, and before I knew it, my legs began moving towards them. One of the officers had decided to take action as well, but I held him back with a pat to the shoulder.
My steps grew quicker and quicker until I stopped right in front of her. She halted as well, and the group of people behind her nearly collided with her backside.
"Hi! My name is Brooklyn. I'm a reporter as well as the representative of BCN news." She outstretched an arm in my direction for a handshake. My line of sight remained on hers. Brooklyn's smile fell when I didn't move an inch to reciprocate the gesture, and she slowly retracted her hands, embarrassment staining her ears.
A blinding flash shone on my face and I squinted my eyes for a brief second. After blinking, I scanned the crowd for the person responsible. My search landed on a boy who looked extremely apologetic, and he pushed the glasses up his nose out of nervousness. He reminded me of a ginger Harry Potter.
"I'm- I'm sorry, that was an accident."
"Are y'all shitting me?" I gritted out, my annoyance audible and my hands now on the waistband of my black slacks.
