The Devil's Bride (Book 1)

Chapter 19- You're The Killer

THIRD PERSON

She held the microphone close to her lips as she stared straight into the camera, holding her firm emotionless state. "Another victim has been claimed by the so-called devil's bride. The other victim, who remains alive yet unstable, has refused to give any evidence to the crime, suggesting that she remains in the dark about the actions that led her to these grass fields." The reporter spoke, sighing. Her eyes still remained focused only on the screen as pedestrians gathered in remorse around the victim, who had now been removed from the scene and carried away in a bag. "As of yet, nobody has been able to identity our John Doe. The couple that discovered the scene claim that the girl who had been unconscious until she began vomiting had said her name was Jemma." The reporter continued to speak as Marie ran onto the crime scene, clutching her notebook in one hand and a phone to her ear in the other.

"Yeah, I'll call you back. I just arrived now, sorry." She murmured, hanging up the phone after she spoke goodbye. She returned the phone to her pocket, retrieving the notebook with both hands. She unclipped a biro pen from the edge of the notebook and stared into the crime scene, her mind drifting as she wrote silently any evidence she could find. The pungent smell cascaded through the morning air as Marie leant down, holding the thin piece of discarded paper in her hand. Someone had hid it under a small pile of leaves. She flipped it over, reading the inscription slowly. Without thinking, she took her phone from her pocket once more and began texting.

'She killed her husband or boyfriend. Whoever he was to her, he meant something.' She texted to an unknown number, sighing as she glanced down to the impact in the emerald grass two bodies had once lied. The unknown number replied back with, 'That's new. Usually her killings are strangers to her, or at least she doesn't announce her connection. What does it mean?' Marie glances down at her phone, staring at the new message. Did she know what it meant? Did this so-called Persephone plan to kill her husband or boyfriend, or was this a fraud? She couldn't decide if this meant something in tracking her down or if this event, the death of a potential lover, was something that only broke away yet another close tie to the killer.

Marie broke away from the crowded collective that haunted the outskirts of the crime scene as she felt the phone pulse in her pocket. She reads the name as she takes it into her grasp, the clear screen reading his name. Grant. She swore quietly before answering the phone, turning her back away from the crime scene. "Grant, hey." She spoke, covering the phone over her ear as citizens passed her by. "What's up?" The sirens of the police and the medics continued as Marie stared around, her head spinning.

"Marie, what happened to our date?" He spoke into the phone, and she froze up, thinking back to their conversation that morning. She remembered that she had promised to spend one night out on a date with him, even if she didn't want to. She couldn't tear his heart apart, but she wanted to know where he was. She wanted to know why he wasn't at this crime scene.

"I know, I'm sorry. We will soon." She tried to move further in the conversation, pushing past his want for a date. In all honesty, she writhed with misery thinking about dating him, when she knew inside that he was so completely different from her, and she had her eyes set on someone else, but she played in his favour. For now. "Why aren't you investigating the murder here at the fields?" She spoke, mumbling.

"It's not my duty to be at every crime scene." He spoke, raising his voice. "Neither is it yours."

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He raised his eyebrows, staring forward as he jolted his head away from the small notepad he had been writing in. Their eyes met in the sea of the crowd, the distance between them breaking them down. Jasper began moving towards his boyfriend, ducking and sneaking past the small line of people lining up for a coffee or a muffin. He had almost reached Peter when someone tapped his back, and Peter's smile faded as Jasper turned to face the mystery figure. He smiled, pulling the woman in for a hug. When they released from each other's grasp, she smiled intensively and opened her mouth to speak.