Scream 4

Chapter 22

The early morning sun was struggling to make much of an impression through the clouds as Roseville's Police Sheriff, Marvin Rorke, rammed on the accelerator to speed his way down the unpopulated streets of the town. He had just been called out of bed by his second-in-command to where the latest crime in town had been committed.

The Sheriff usually'd take more than five minutes to prepare and leave his home. After all, the dead could wait a couple of minutes longer. So why had he rushed out in record time now?

It was because this was the first case where the victim was discovered alive. Although this alone would give the impression that the suspect wasn't a target of their killer, the Sheriff begged to differ. He could feel it in his bones.

Upon arrival, he turned the bend and put on the brakes, pulling the car up to where a line of similar-looking police cars had already been parked. The crime scene tape encompassing the area gave it a sense of foreboding, along with the red and blue lights cutting through the relative darkness. There were countless news crews already on the scene, busy filming the area, and although having no body made the crime less sensational, it seemed that that didn't stop the vultures from flocking down.

Stepping out of his car, Sheriff Rorke felt a chill go through his spine and tugged the edges of his jacket to close it a little more. He turned to the swarm of reporters on the scene, giving them their photo op through the loud chorus of questions.

"Sir, do you believe this is related to the Ghost Face?"

"Sheriff Rorke, do you think the killer has taken the body somewhere else?"

"Sheriff, any leads yet?"

"Isn't it time to put the town under curfew? Or do you not care about the safety of your citizens?"

On and on the questions came, but he declined to answer any of them. He had a case to solve and finally they had some good fucking news. Maybe this was the breakthrough they needed. Maybe this could tip the scale in their favour.

As luck would have it, his detective came to greet him with a takeaway cup before they lifted the tape over their heads and entered the scene.

"Where is the victim?" The Sheriff pulled out something from his pocket with the hand that wasn't holding his drink.

"(Y/N) (L/N) has been rushed to the hospital in the early hours of the night."

"I want to speak with her as soon as she's available, you got it?" The detective nodded in response, as Rorke looked around himself. In his right hand was a crumpled picture of you, smiling. You probably weren't right now.

It had been raining almost non-stop for the past two days, so most of the evidence had already been washed away by now, which made finding any possible trace an even harder task.

"Sheriff?"

The Sheriff's head snapped up to one of the youngest officers of his corps, who stood facing the other side of the alleyway some footsteps away. A white latex finger gestured towards one of the many wet bricks that, upon closer inspection, had an unmistakable dark red stain splattered on it. Blood.

Rorke took a sip of the brown caffeinated liquid and winced at how bad it tasted, wiping some of it off his moustache. There was probably no decent coffee places open this late or early in the day. Although any caffeine would do right now as he blinked away the barely two hours of sleep he had gotten.

"You think it's our man?" He eyed his subordinate, who came walking up to him from behind.

"Implausible. He doesn't leave anyone alive, does he?"