Beyond Blood (Dark Whispers #1)

Chapter 2: Echoes of the Past

Chapter 2: Echoes of the Past

The rain continued its relentless assault, a somber symphony accompanying my grim investigation. The police officers, their faces grim and weary, stood guard around the crime scene. Detective Miller, a seasoned veteran with eyes that seemed to have witnessed too much, approached me with a weary sigh.

"Waverly," he said, his voice gravelly. "You're here about the Davies case, then?"

"Davies," I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. "That's the victim, isn't it?"

"Michael Davies, yes. The brother of that woman, Sarah, who came to you about her husband." He gave a sardonic chuckle. "Seems Lake City's been having a bad week for the Davies family."

I felt a pang of sympathy for Sarah, knowing the pain she must be enduring. "I'll do my best to get her some answers," I said, my voice firm.

Miller nodded curtly. "The coroner's still examining the body, but initial findings point to multiple stab wounds, possibly from a sharp instrument. No signs of forced entry, no evidence of struggle. It's like he was simply... led here and… dispatched."

My eyes scanned the scene again, taking in the grim details. The old mill stood as a silent witness, its crumbling walls echoing the brutality of the crime.  The ground, soaked by the persistent rain, was stained with the remnants of Michael's life, a grim testament to the savage act that had taken him.

Miller continued, "Witnesses saw a black SUV speeding away from the scene. There’s a partial plate number, but nothing conclusive yet." He paused, his gaze meeting mine. "The coroner found something interesting, though.  A single red rose, placed right next to the body."

"A rose?" I echoed, my gaze drawn to the crimson flower that lay on the ground, its petals damp and wilting. "Why a rose? What's the meaning?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Miller replied, his voice a low murmur. "We're checking databases, looking for any connection to the Davies family or anything that might be relevant. This is not your typical murder, Waverly. There's something else at play here, something... personal. Almost like a message."

Miller's words echoed in my mind, a chilling mantra. The rose, a symbol of love and beauty, had become an eerie, chilling emblem of death. It was a morbid puzzle, a cruel cipher that needed to be deciphered.

I moved closer to the body, my steps silent on the muddy ground. My gaze drifted towards the rose, its vibrant red a stark contrast against the stark, grey canvas of the scene. The scent of rain and decay mingled with a faint, sweet perfume, a reminder of the life that had been extinguished.

My hand instinctively went to my pocket, searching for the pack of cigarettes. The need for a nicotine fix was overwhelming, a familiar balm for the gnawing anxiety that was starting to consume me. As I lit a cigarette, the familiar ritual offered a brief respite, a momentary escape from the grim reality of the scene.

But the reprieve was short-lived. As I inhaled the acrid smoke, a wave of dizziness washed over me. The world around me seemed to warp and distort, the rain becoming a blur, the sounds of the officers’ voices fading into a distant hum.

A cold hand gripped my heart, a primal fear squeezing the air from my lungs. My vision blurred, and a cold sweat broke out on my skin. My own breath sounded like a distant echo, a morbid reminder of my own mortality.

"Natalia, are you okay?" Miller's voice, concerned and distant, cut through the fog that was closing in on me.

I blinked, my vision slowly returning to focus. My hand trembled as I gripped the cigarette, its heat a reassuring presence in the growing darkness.