CHAPTER ONE

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AMELIA

We got the call around three in the afternoon and two squad cars of San Fallon rushed to Rubic Avenue 45.

I was one of the first officers on the scene.

The bathroom.

 The victim was about seventeen years old.

She was wearing her underwear, slightly visible from the bloody bath.

Her skin was pale and her lips blue.

Her eyes partially open as I hunched down, and a trail of a tear, visible on her face.

Her mother's sobs were in the hallway. Too frantic to give a statement now.

I closed my eyes. This was going to shock the community.

Stan entered. He was the sheriff and close to retirement. He crouched down his tall, slender figure, and took off his hat. He stroked his mustache, while taking in the heartbreaking scene. 

None of us said a word.

"What must she have gone through to think this was the only way out." Stan's deep voice broke the silence.

"No idea." I answered.

"I will call Jimmy," he said as he ran a hand through his white hair and got up.

 I watched him leave.

I tried to find the weapon she used to slit her wrists, but decided to wait for Jimmy, the coroner, who was about Stan's age but the total opposite.

He was short and stocky with peppered hair, but since I've started working as a police officer in San Fallon, they had been a pair. Stan the Sheriff and Jimmy the coroner. They go on fishing trips a lot too.

I got up and went outside. Stan was comforting Brenda Fairchild, the mother of the victim.

Her shoulders shook violently as his long figure hunched over her's in an awkward hug. It almost felt as if he was trying to shield her from all this pain. 

"I'm so sorry for your loss," he spoke softly as her cries muffled in his chest. No parent should go through this. It wasn't fair.

 Stan was such a father figure, and had a loving nature too. Shocked that our community was going to change with the death of one of its citizens. He was a great sheriff and nobody would fill his shoes when he steps down.

My partner, Charles Liamson, left to break the news to the victim's father face to face. It was not going to be an easy case as this was the first suicide case for both of us.  

San Fallon wasn't like all the other cities. We had a peaceful town. Loads of older residents lived here. People moved to San Fallon when crime picked up in other states, but not everyone could afford the expensive lifestyle. We didn't even own a detective on the police force as most of our cases were natural cause or accidents. We were going to have to do this one by the book, and I mean it literally.

I looked at Brenda. She was short and stocky and Stan was still holding her tight.  

"Amelia, why don't you go and make Brenda a strong cup of tea with three sugars," Stan's suggest.  "How does that sound, Brenda?" 

The woman nodded still through sobs, her head softly pressed against his chest.

"Sure thing." I made my way to Brenda's kitchen.

The house was beautiful. A double story like fifty percent of the houses in San Fallon.

The hall- and stairway had a warm feeling and I could sense the breath of renowned interior decorator, Mari Sussex, in every nook and corner of the house. 

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