Diaries of the Dead

19 | The Proof

unedited.

19 | T h e P r o o f

The lights flipped on, emitting a harsh white light that shone down on the metal table.

Mitch raised his head just enough to see the outline of the person who just walked in. He released a broken breath and set his head on the cool aluminum desk, once again.

"Are you ready to speak now?" Lance remained hitched in the corner of the room.

Mitch snarled at the officer. "How many times must I tell you? I didn't kill her."

Lance wasn't convinced. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his newly pressed pants and waltzed around the room. "You can say it a thousand times. I still won't believe you." He appeared in front of Mitch, a growing grin on his face. It did him pleasure, having Mitch sit there in agony.

He only respired heavily, letting his gaze drop to the floor. "Well, now you know that you're wasting your time on me when the real killer is out there somewhere."

Lance slowly slid into the seat opposite of Mitch. He interlocked his fingers and leaned on the table, studying him. He enjoyed watching Mitch suffer only because he was romantically involved with Grace. It didn't take rocket science to figure out he had grown to like Grace from their little time together, and Mitch was a threat to that. "So, explain to me why Jessica's blood was found at your place. Coincidence?"

Mitch didn't bother to respond. There was no explanation he could give that would make sense.

"Tell me about your involvement with Gracelyn Hughes."

Mitch glanced up, his face going through a myriad of emotions; shock, confusion and then anger. "What does she have to do with anything?"

Lance fiddled with his wedding band and shrugged. "Answer the question and you'll get your phone call."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Grace is a fun girl. She's full of energy. That's all there really is to her." He shrugged loosely and leaned back in the chair, not meeting the officer's gaze.

Lance nodded; satisfied with the answers he was receiving. "Now, tell me about your involvement with Jessica."

Mitch sucked in a breath, feeling chills run down his spine. "Is she really dead?" he questioned, his voice shaky.

"Yeah, and you killed her," Lance asserted. He grabbed the manila folder that sat at the corner of the table and flipped it open, pulling out a few photos. He spread them out on the table for Mitch to see. "Any of this ring a bell?"

The suspect leaned in slowly and scanned the photos. His eyes widened with he saw the gruesome content of the pictures. Each picture was taken at a different angle and proximity, but the quality of the photos didn't matter.

The first picture was taken of a body part-a leg or an arm. It was separated from the rest of the body based on the clear severs at the joints. The body part was covered in dark red liquid, which instantly made Mitch gag.

The rest of the photographs were of a similar fashion, but taken of different body parts-feet, hands, stomach, genitalia. The last picture, though, was what brought tears to his eyes.

Because there, in front of him, was a photograph of Jessica's head.

It was severed from the rest of her body. The color had been completely drained from her face, and she truly looked dead. The worst part was...her eyes were open, staring back at him.

A scream erupted from the back of his throat and he looked away.

"Do you feel guilty now?" Lance prodded, rising to his feet.