Blood Pointe

1.

"Of course, miss...?"

"Campbell. Madeline Campbell," the woman said, pulling the foil blanket tighter around her shoulders.

The auditorium was cold enough as is, without the added shock, and the stage doors being flung wide open.

Her thin peach leotard and tights did little to stop the shivering. Madeline was told she'd be able to collect her cardigan from the changing rooms soon, but that was hours ago, and the officers had changed shifts twice since then. 

"And you arrived at what time this morning?" The officer asked, not bothering to look up from his notepad as he spoke. 

"Around 8:45 AM," Madeline's voice was soft, barely audible above the hum of the overhead lights. "I had a private lesson scheduled with Anya at 9:00. She's always late, so I started my warm-up as soon as I got in."

A bitter gust of wind swept through the open doors, rustling the crime scene tape that cordoned off the stage. Madeline flinched, her gaze drawn to the darkened platform where her friend's lifeless body had been. The body had been covered, but the scene was burned into Madeline's mind.

"Was there anyone else around who can confirm that? Another dancer? Maybe a member of staff?"

"I- I don't know. The cleaners might have been around..." She couldn't tear her eyes away. The wires still dangled from the rafters, thin strips of pale flesh and viscera hanging loosely from the hooks.

"Miss Campbell?"

How long had Anya been hanging there? They'd spoken on the phone just last night, they'd been laughing, smiling. Was she alive when... When she...

"Miss Campbell, I need you to focus. Is there anyone else who can verify your whereabouts?"

Madeline blinked, the grotesque image momentarily fading as she refocused on the officer's question. "I... No, I don't think so. It's usually quiet in the mornings," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "But the door was unlocked when I arrived, which was odd. We always lock up after rehearsals."

The officer finally looked up, his eyes meeting Madeline's for the first time. They were a cold, steely grey, without any warmth or empathy. "Unlocked, you say? And did you notice anything else out of the ordinary? Any signs of forced entry? A broken window, perhaps?"

His tone was accusatory, making Madeline's heart pound in her chest. She wracked her brain, trying to remember every detail of her arrival that morning. "No, nothing like that," she stammered. "Everything seemed normal, except for the door."

A heavy silence descended upon them, broken only by the mournful creak of the stage lights swaying in the draft. Madeline felt the weight of the officer's scrutiny, a cold dread creeping into her bones.

"Normal, except for the door," the officer echoed, his voice dripping with insinuation. He leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. "And yet, you didn't think to call the police? You simply proceeded with your lesson, despite finding the main entrance unsecured?"

Madeline recoiled, the blanket slipping from her shoulders. "I-I didn't think anything of it at the time," she stammered, her eyes wide with alarm. "I was... distracted. I had a lot on my mind."

The officer's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Distracted? By what, exactly? A lover's quarrel? A financial dispute with Miss...?" He paused, consulting his notes. "Anya, was it?"

Madeline felt a surge of anger, her cheeks flushing with indignation. "No! Nothing like that," she retorted, her voice rising. "Anya was my friend. My closest friend."

The officer raised a sceptical eyebrow. "And yet, you can't provide a single alibi for your whereabouts this morning. You're the one who discovered the body. A rather convenient coincidence, wouldn't you agree?"