The Crimson Chariot

01 | The Crimson Death

September 2, 2012
Sunday
5:11 p.m.

Dear Janet,

I'd hoped the tide would subside in three months, but I feel like it's only gotten higher. Mom and dad came to drop me off at Sacredmore today and the fear I've been noticing in their eyes ever since that day has grown. They're rattled after what happened to you and perhaps had to fight off every bit of their conscience to send me here. They left after a while, and when they did, I felt the same fear wash over me as I stood before the place that turned its back on you. It was during those very few seconds that I felt like turning back and never returning to this cursed school. It would've been a smart choice, perhaps, but a cowardly move considering what I am truly here for. There's no turning back now; I've come too far.

They visited me too while passing by my room; you know. Ethan had this sorrowful smile on his face, like a smile you fake to keep up appearances that you are okay. Thomas was smirking, that stupid smirk I just wanted to slap right off his face. I would have if I was the one in power. Archie was terrified. He couldn't look at me. He hardly spoke and never made eye contact. Out of the four of them, he was the only one showing remorse over his crimes. But the deed was done, and he would reap the consequences just like his friends would. Then there was Paul, totally emotionless. His mannerisms were...robotic like he was reduced to nothing but Ethan's puppet. I remember how inseparable you two were the first few months of coming here, but in those cold, blank eyes, I didn't catch a glimpse of the Paul you trusted. I wish I could be just as emotionless, to never feel this pain of missing you. The hatred that boils inside me for what they did to you is something I can never describe.

I remained cold while they were there, not wanting to speak to them or engage with them. How could I? Ethan then invited me to this bonfire the students host every year, and I accepted out of politeness of course. But not only that; to watch them. I will get to the bottom of this, I will make them pay Janet. Every day is harder without you here, but one day they will burn in hell while we laugh.

I love you, Janet, always and forever.

Your brother, Jeremy

***

I'VE SPENT ALL MY LIFE wondering why people kill. Is it because of love? Money? Or fame? But as I see the dead body of Ethan Covington laid out on the ground in front of me, I realize any of those three variables can fit the equation of his murder. The question in this case, however, isn't who did, but who didn't want to kill Ethan Covington. I couldn't possibly count the number on one hand.

He was the topic of everyone's conversations even at school—the epitome of power and prestige. I didn't know him all that well since he was my senior, but half the people who knew him either hated him for his wealth, while the rest wanted to be him for that same wealth.

And his murderer has to be of either faction.

Two fishermen found the body early this morning, floating in the freezing waters of Lake Iris. An icy breeze sends shivers down my spine as I watch about a dozen people around me, officers, medical staff, and the crime scene unit. It's just any other day for them, but for me, it's the beginning of a journey. Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined the first case I get to handle as a homicide detective would be one with connections to my past.

"Amara!" Captain Terence Hale calls me from my left, getting off a police van. He is like a father to me, and one of the very few faces I recognize since I moved back to Valenchester a month ago.

He approaches me with someone else following close behind. Another detective, I presume.

"Morning, Captain," I say, bowing my head a little.