Rivals

Chapter 26

"Rio's Move"

     An appalling aroma of cigarette smoke and remote decay permeates the house.

And once the investigation team and I finally step into the bedroom where this morning's crime scene is taking place - the vulgar smell mercilessly overtakes.

After pointlessly fanning away the aroma from my nose momentarily, I stand furrowing a perceptive gaze at the room's surroundings.

The dark wooden walls canvas mere dents across it's frail surface like decor - presumably marks of punches.

Yet the bedroom's hardwood floor is spotless. But the king size bed in the centre showcases otherwise.

Tucked in white bedsheets lies a woman - pale and breathless as her eyelids are shut. I feel my jaw softly clench instinctively, knowing the woman is not alive.

Taking a step towards the bed that holds her body, I observe the purple bruises across her neck.

In my blue leather jacket, I fold my arms firmly against my chest. I release a gentle breath.

"So far, the victim's cause of death was strangulation. Probably from whoever has the obvious anger issues..." I announce to the team; gesturing towards the punched walls.

My perceptive blue green irises avert back to the victim again. A curious narrow casts over my brows a second.

"Simon," I say, peering a glance over my shoulder at one of the officers investigating the bedroom's surroundings, too.

Simon's black irises meet mine; the brown curls on his head reflecting the golden sunlight beaming in through the room's open window.

"If we're the only ones here at the scene, then who called the Station to report it?" I ask - perplexed.

"We answered the call but no one seemed to be on the other line." he informs. "No one said anything. So I sent a few officers to check out the location we traced... and we found her."

My gaze trails back to our Jane Doe. Confusion and wonder still provokes.

I begin to ponder if the murderer called. But why would they? Why would they call us possibly knowing we would track them down from the fingerprints around the victims neck?

Why would they give themselves away?

A sudden, light thump sounds from the closet of the bedroom. I turn around; my attention lulled onto the closet's closed white double doors.

My pink lips part a moment, and while grasping onto the handle of my gun near the rim of my skinny jeans, I head over towards the closet.

Stopping just before the white painted wooden doors within silent seconds, I then quickly swing open the doors and aim my gun ahead in precaution.

But I only end up looking down to who is inside. Upon the closet's hard floor sits two kids - each of their knees are up with the soles of their feet flat on the floor.

Their teary eyes are wide on mine. Instinctively I hurriedly put away my gun.

One is a blonde girl who seems to be around six years old - the other a little boy who appears around three or four. There's an ache in my chest as the fear and sadness are evident across their faces.

"Hey," I squat down and speak gentle. "It's alright, you're safe." I assure carefully, tucking back a few of my wavy blonde strands behind an ear as I watch the two kids eventually come to a hesitant stand.