*EDITING; DON'T READ*

Started By A Murder

Prologue

He walked into a warehouse which had faded through the years it had stood there empty, collecting dust and dirt that had turned to grime. I tentatively stepped toward the enormous building from behind an old local corner store, which was closed for the day. I crossed the desolate street towards the car that my Dad had driven up in. Crouching behind the car my brown eyes searched the area for anyone, including my Dad. He didn't know that I trailed behind him on some of his cases, watching and listening to how he handled situations, and I'd like to keep it that way. Illegal or not, I couldn't help it, especially since he has become a bit distant lately. By lately, I mean the past few months, and by distant, I mean all he does is sit in his study all day.

I slowly inched my way to the wall of the warehouse. It gave off an eerie vibe that made me swallow hard, my eyes darting down the sides of the building. I heard a voice say something calmly, and then a deeper one jumped in. The second one's voice slightly raised, getting angry. I knew one of them had to be my dad, but I couldn't tell which, as I couldn't make out what they were saying, even though their voices echoed and bounced through the semi-empty building. It didn't help that there was a wall separating us either.

As I continued to hear the indistinct voices, standing outside got more and more frustrating. I stepped back looking along the warehouse walls. My eyes skimmed over the dirty concrete in search for an open window, or even a hole in the wall.The door wasn't an option for my situation. I didn't know exactly where they were placed inside, for all I know they could be right on the other side of the door.

My eyes found some crates that had been stacked against the wall right underneath a window. I was in luck, the crates were just small enough for me to get on top. I climbed the first one, wincing as it creaked. Then the next one, pulling myself onto it, where I was now level with the long, thin window. My hands were covered in dirt so I wiped them on my pants. Good thing I decided against wearing white pants today.

Now I was about ten feet in the air. It was kind of refreshing, the view. The neighborhood was quiet and peaceful, the sky was bright blue with animal-shaped clouds scattered across it, not to mention the flowers which added color to the environment. I turned my attention back to the window hastily.

The glass had collected dust, I wiped it with the sleeve of my jacket but found that most of it was on the inside. A soft sigh escaped my lips as I peered through the dirty window.

I could make out my father's figure as well as another tall man's. His back was towards me, and my father stood across from him. I squinted, hoping to make out anything else. No large details except that there were more crates inside, and the stranger's head was shaking. My ears still couldn't pick up exactly what they were saying, which frustrated me beyond belief, but I could tell that their voice's had raised quite a bit.

Then, the man I didn't know, outstretched his arm. I should've known what was going on. I could have pounded against the glass hoping to distract him if only for a few seconds. But I was clueless until I heard the piercing sound.

A thump could be heard through the warehouse and to where I sat. Then I saw my dad slouch to the ground, first to his knees, then his entire body fell against the filthy ground he had stood upon.

My breath shook as I scrambled off the two crates and onto the gravel covered ground. I threw open the door that hadn't been an option for me earlier, running inside the thick-aired building.

I froze at my Dad's figure on the ground as I turned my head right to see the other man running to another entrance across the warehouse, throwing the door open and bolting outside. My throat tightened as pools began to puddle in my eyes.

I sank to my knees, a little bit of hope surging through me as I shakily put my hands on him, rolling him over. A large pool of blood had formed and when I turned him over, I saw it clearly. The thick scarlet liquid pooled at my feet as I stared at his open, dead eyes. Dead. Even in the blanket of silence, the word echoed through my head, bouncing, making the word known in my mind like it was making sure I realized the truth of the situation.

Tears started dripping down my face as I kneeled next to him. From my mouth erupted sobs, my body shaking as I wrapped my arms around myself. But those sad tears soon became angry hot pools sliding down my cheeks. I stood up, turned around, and kicked a random box. I was mad at the man who killed my dad. Angry and frustrated.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand, glaring at the ground looking away from his body. Not wanting to look at it and remind myself of the tragedy I didn't deserve. Something caught my attention as I glared at the ground. It wasn't a crisp white, but it was a light tan, almost yellowish envelope that laid on the ground. With my shoulders slumped, and curiosity getting the best of me, I walked towards it. When I picked it up, I flipped it over and back. It had obviously been folded and unfolded many times, because of how soft it was. I mentally shrugged as I tucked into my pocket, looking back at his body. Biting the inside of my lip, fresh tears threatening to spill. I shook my head as I pulled out my phone, dialing a number every kid knows, but once you get older you hope you never have to use.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"M-M-My..." I took a much needed deep breath. " My n-names S-Samantha Grant. M-My. M-My D-Dads been sh-shot."