Love is Murder

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
Detective Howlett is faced with a predicament. Howlett must not only solve the crime of the century, but he must also help the unkowing love of his life face her demons, beofre they kill her and leave her to die like the many victims they have faced on the autopsy table.

NOT DONE. Will continue if you approve of it thus far.

Submitted: February 03, 2011

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Submitted: February 03, 2011

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Dane Howlett
 
I walked down the corridor not knowing what I would find next. Each step dropped my heart down a little more. I knew something bad had happened; you could tell by all of the flashing blue and red lights that shone from outside the windows. I had seen these kinds of things before, but no matter what, with each new case, I could never seem to fathom the reality behind them
I have worked for the FBI for two years now, and I still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of seeing dead bodies on a daily basis. I got here after my five years at Florida State University, College of Criminology. All my years there could never prepare me for what I was about to see when I walked through that door to the bedroom.
The bedroom consisted of four burgundy colored walls that had a tan border three feet up from the ground. The door was located in the south-eastern corner of the room, and there was a closet on the western wall. The doors of the closet were very intricately carved, little vines that descended into twirling roses and lilies, each one looking exactly the same, but with closer inspection, don’t look anything alike. The knobs of the doors were crystalline and shone rainbows against the walls when light was bounced off of them. Across from that was a white dresser. The drawers on the dresser were also very intricate, and looked very similar to the closet doors. There were three drawers towards the bottom, and above them was a cabinet. When you open up the cabinet, you are greeted by a giant circular mirror that was so dusty, when you looked at yourself through it, you couldn’t help but think that there was no way the elderly person on the other side was you. The border of the mirror also had very intricate roses and lilies sandblasted into it. The theme of this room was starting to make me sick. One thing about this room that was especially eerie was the fact that there was not a single window in this room.
Moving away from the grossness of the furniture in this room, I turned towards the bed, the place where the murder had been committed. There was blood puddle everywhere, up by the headrest, down at the foot of the bed, perfectly in the middle. And under all that blood was the body of a young fifteen year old girl. There was a gash in her neck. The coroner later stated in her report that her carotid artery was severed. Her hands were bound above her head and her legs were bound below her. Her clothes were torn away from her body and left in bloody shreds at the foot of the bed. I looked up and saw a phrase written on the wall in, what I assumed, was her blood. The message read: “love is murder”. I had absolutely no idea in the world what this meant.
I had my men bag up the evidence and send it to the lab to be evaluated by the best forensics team in the state. I didn’t necessarily like this group of people, but they were good at what they do, and I respected them for that.
 
 
Madison Millicent
When the evidence arrived I got right to work. It was all drenched in blood but I worked with what I could. I examined the clothes first, and found tiny, minute particulates on one of the shreds of clothing. I sent it to the chemical lab to have it tested while I continued to gaze over the remains of what I believed was once a silk/lingerie nightgown. What a fifteen year old was doing with lingerie, I have no clue. I then proceeded to examine the blood-drenched bed sheets. Luckily, for me, it looked like Florence had gotten all of the remaining skin residue removed when she took the body. I didn’t find anything the first time around, but then I took a UV light and dimmed the room. The sheets glowed like the sun, but there was another shade of white in that glow that caught my eye. A glow that was NOT blood. I then realized why she had been wearing lingerie at the time of her death. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how a fifteen year old could even condsider THINKING about that, let alone participating in the act itself. This is exactly why I don’t have children. Kids in todays society are so greatly obscured by the reality of their surroundings, that they think ANYTHING is okay for them to do. My god, she was only a baby, and she had already done the greatest deed in life, then died right away afterwards. “the poor girl,” I thought, “her innocence taken away from her, then her life so violently taken from this world before she has any chance of redeeming herself.”


© Copyright 2018 Willoe Ivory. All rights reserved.

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