Cupid's Guide to Murder

Chapter 35: Into the Storm

The aftermath of death always varied.

When Natasha died, there was chaos, the type of chaos that only a summer storm could bring. A hurricane of destruction, a shift in the stillness we were used to. It wasn't because she was loved — it was because people were scared they would be next.

Dean's death rattled some people to the core. People had questions — Human beings were meant to be curious, to seek answers they believed they deserved to know. People wanted to know if he truly just had a drink too many, his inebriated state leading to his unfortunate death. His drunken haze could've caused him to fall, hitting his head on the bathroom stall, earning the gash.

Others believed it was Killer Cupid. They thought that Justin was involved in some way, even though he was in jail. They said he must've sent someone else to complete his sick, twisted game. Dean was an easy target; no one liked him, just like no one liked Natasha. 

Whether you believed the first or second version didn't matter. What mattered was that in just a few months, Fairwood's population had gone down by two, two people they would never get back.

I closed my eyes, remembering how I had found Dean, his body twisted in a manner I wouldn't forget. The dried blood that dotted his Cupid's bow, and the way his eyes dulled altogether.

This time, it wasn't the eyes that would stay with me.

It was the smell. Remnants of liquor mixed with coppery blood.

Raggedy breaths rose from my throat until I heard a scream. It didn't come from me, though. Taylor had found us, her eyes darting erratically from me to the dead body in front of us.

Everything else happened like a groggy nightmare.

The police came. Sirens that I had blocked out of my mind from the night of the Valentine's Day party were back, flashing vividly in the background. Griffin ran up to me, pulling me into a tight hug. He was saying something, something along the lines of asking me if I was okay, but everything was blurry.

Across the beach, I locked gazes with Officer Davies. His eyes landed on me, dozens of unreadable emotions running through. Several empty bottles and red solo cups lined the beach, but right now, that was the last of our concerns.

One of the detectives held up a note — it was labeled Cupid's Guide to Murder. 

My stomach lurched, and I pulled out of Griffin's grasp to throw up. When I was done, the sirens were still going off.

--

The doorbell rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. The first few times, I didn't answer. No one else was at home to get the door, though, so I finally got up. I opened the door and my stomach twisted.

Justin shifted, his eyes meeting mine. He looked like he hadn't slept properly, sporting dark circles under his eyes and a bruise that hadn't quite healed. He ran a hand through his matted blonde waves before taking a step forward. "Haven. Hey."

I froze. "What are you doing here?"

He took a step forward. "I just want to talk."

I instinctively took a step back. This couldn't be happening. Justin was supposed to be at the police station.

He must've seen the fear in my eyes because he created distance between us, raising his hands in the air. "Please," he breathed. "I just want to explain things."

"I thought the police have an arrest warrant for you," I said, trying to steady my breathing.

"My parents posted my bail until the date of the trial," Justin said. He closed the door behind him, and an uncomfortable sensation tingled through my skin.