SCARLET LIPS

This is a crime thriller.

The air around Silverlake was crisp, the kind that stung your lungs as you inhaled deeply. The morning sun cast faint, silvery reflections on the lake's still surface. The city's namesake, Silverlake, was known for its serenity-an escape from the buzz of urban life. Joggers and early risers often flocked to its trails for moments of solitude.
It was barely 6 a.m. when Martin Hayes, a retired accountant turned fitness enthusiast, jogged his regular loop. His earbuds pumped faint jazz into his ears as his feet crunched against the gravel path. The lake was quiet this morning, unusually so.
As he approached the northern side of the trail, something caught his attention. At first, he thought it was a bundle of clothes or perhaps someone sleeping. But as he drew closer, dread settled into his chest.
A woman lay sprawled by the water's edge, her body unnaturally still. Her arms were bent at awkward angles, and her legs extended halfway into the lake. Her face was partially submerged, her dark hair fanned out in the water like seaweed.
Martin froze, his breath hitching in his throat. He yanked out his earbuds and took a tentative step forward. The first thing he noticed was her lips-painted a bright scarlet red. They seemed out of place, too vivid against her pallid skin. Her dress, once white, was smeared with dirt and grass. Scratches marred her forearms, and her nails were chipped, with remnants of dirt underneath.
His eyes darted to the water. A white lily floated serenely next to her. For a brief moment, it almost looked peaceful-until he noticed the faint bruises circling her neck. She had been held down, suffocated with the very lake that mirrored the morning light so beautifully.
A wave of nausea surged through Martin. He stumbled back, fumbling for his phone. His shaking fingers barely managed to dial 911.
"This is... I'm at Silverlake. There's a body. A woman. Please, send someone quickly," he stammered.