The Brightest Star

Chapter 7

Seven ⭒

"Mirabelle..."
His voice sounded far away, drowned in emotion, almost unrecognizable. Will stood at her doorway, hair disheveled and a mess, eyes puffy and red, his expression shallow and pale. He had obviously been crying, even if it wasn't very hard. He was a mess, and she had no idea what to do.
She invited him in and guided him toward the couch in the living room. They sat in silence, his eyes drifting from the dark leather couches to the staircase behind Mirabelle, then to Mirabelle herself. Such thin, breakable glass acted as a barrier between them. Only moments later did Mirabelle decide it was ready to shatter.
"What happened, Will?"
A shudder passed through her body as she heard his voice strangled with emotion. "I... Mirabelle... I can't." He pushed his palms into his eyes and groaned, as if in severe pain. Mirabelle never expected to see anyone like this, especially not Will. Her fun-loving, careless Will, broken, like a puzzle that had been hastily taken apart. The sight almost made her choke up too.
She reached across to him, resting her hand on his knee, and he didn't recoil. He removed his hands from his face and overlapped them onto hers. "You have to come with me." He looked at her, with his sad green eyes, the color of emeralds and summer grass and all things beautiful, and pleaded with her. She nodded, unsure of what else she could do, and lead him to the door, her fingers laced with his. She noticed the emergency vehicles upon leaving the house. They all surrounded a grey house, yellow police tape lining the front door.
She wasn't scared. It was wrong, but her stomach was doing flips. She felt as if she were living an episode of the Mentalist as she lifted the police tape and stepped under it.
The house was already gloomy, the moment the two walked in. The blinds were all drawn in the front room, the lights were dim or nonexistent, and Mirabelle could already smell the off-putting scent of death.
This scent was familiar. A miserable memory resurfaced in Mirabelle's mind. She had smelled the same scent she had when she was six years old. She had been on a trip to her grandparent's house, who lived in Missouri, and once she had arrived at the house, she opened the front door and found the horrible smell wafting toward her. She had no idea at the time, that that was what death smelled like. But her parents knew. They had exchanged a nervous glance and pushed past Mirabelle, entering the family room. Jeanie screamed, running toward the corpse of her father, laying on the couch. He had been 79 years old, and died of cardiac arrest.
Now, she couldn't see the victim. She heard Will moving forward and followed him. He lead her up the stairs to a girl's room. Mirabelle sucked in a breath upon entering. Regrettably, she found the victim. With a single glance, she could see that her clothes were bloody and torn. She must have been her age, or maybe a year older, with darker blonde hair than she had, and tanner skin. Mirabelle wished her eyes were closed, but they weren't. They were glassy and hazel, and sad. She moved toward the body, and Will followed her.
"Who is she?" Mirabelle inquired softly. She heard Will take in a deep breath before replying.
"Her name is Marissa Walters. She was my girlfriend as of this morning... but now she's... she's dead." The last word was barely a whisper. Mirabelle felt it wrong for a twinge of jealousy to run through her, but it happened.
She crouched beside the body, forcing her mind to focus on nothing but the task at hand. There was a raging feeling in her veins, causing her to want to find out what happened to this girl, why someone would do such a thing.
While closer, Mirabelle was able to see what happened to her. She pushed a piece of cloth away from her chest where multiple cuts and stab wounds marked her skin. Most of them were placed directly over her heart, opening her chest cavity and blood was still spilling from the wound. there was a peculiar wound on the right side of her chest. It was obviously made in the last moments of life, because not much blood was spilling from it. the cuts formed the shape of a jagged heart with a jagged scar acrossed it. The mark of a killer.
"This is..." Mirabelle began, exhaling deeply.
"Brutal? Yeah." Will remarked, though there was no lightness to his voice like there should have been. Mirabelle brought out her phone and created a new note.

Title To Be Announced
Crime data log
Marissa Walters: Victim.
Investigation Time 5:50 Wednesday, February 26.
Location: 2321 Lannister Way

"Right... What have you got, as injuries go?" Will looked quizzically at Mirabelle, but she just showed him the phone screen and he understood.
"She's got a bullet wound in both her legs."
Mirabelle nodded, adding the information to the note. She also added what she knew.

Victim was shot in both legs, found bloody with clothes torn revealing stabbing and cut marks all over her body. Multiple stab wounds to the heart and a mysterious mark of a killer exhibiting a jagged heart with a jagged scar across it.

There was a gruff sound that came from the doorway. Mirabelle jumped at the noise and looked up in terror. Will stood up to meet the man in the doorway, ready to explain himself and talk his way out of a bad situation. Mirabelle stood too, watching the man.
He was obviously the lead detective in the investigation, with sophisticated attire and somewhat short light brown hair that was greying. His eyes were dusky grey, and his eyebrows were knit together.
"Hello, Detective Inspector..." Will began but stopped abruptly, remembering he doesn't know the man's name.
"Wilson," the inspector stated. "What are you doing here?"
"I was just getting to that actually!" Will replied, delighted, the light airiness of his voice coloring it once more. "Marissa Walters was my friend. I feel responsible for finding out what happened to her and therefore I decided to come and investigate her death."

Will was holding himself together nicely. He wasn't breaking down like he had earlier and he seemed to have accepted the fact that his friend slash girlfriend had died today. The thought made Mirabelle shutter. She was his girlfriend as of this morning... which means that they had either had feelings before... or Will thought that the other night didn't go well and in order to make himself feel better, he took which ever girl would take him, which circles back to having feelings before.
Mirabelle didn't want to confront him about it. It didn't matter if he didn't like her. She would help him investigate this case.
The detective looked from Will to Mirabelle and back again. He sighed heavily and dropped his head, whispering to himself. "I could get fired for this," he shook his greying head and looked back up at the two of them. "Fine. Fine, go ahead and investigate her. Just don't withhold any information from me." He strode over to Will, handing him a card with his name, number and email on it.
"Thank you." Will replied, shaking the detective's hand. DI Wilson nodded and left the room. Will followed him a moment and spoke with him outside of the room. Mirabelle couldn't hear what they were saying, but he returned a minute later with a reassuring look on his face. Will stood with his forehead resting on the doorframe, taking in the surroundings, reminiscing about old times he had in this house. He beckoned Mirabelle to follow him as he pushed himself off the door and exited. She did, almost jogging to catch up with his long strides.
"Can we go hang out at your place?" He asked, looking at Mirabelle for guidance. She nodded carefully before adding,
"You can show me some of those shows you talked about at dinner."
"Okay," Will replied, smiling down at her with his brilliant green eyes.