His Death, Her New Beginning

Name: His Death, Her New Beginning
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Gavin

Short stories | Completed

5.0

Comment(s)

View

Chapters

The city air was thick with sirens, a constant wail that had become the sound of dread. Thirteen brutal murders had everyone locking their doors a little tighter. I never thought the fourteenth would be mine. The call came just after midnight. "Mrs. Miller? This is the police. There's been an incident at your residence." I knew before he said another word: David was gone. A cold, empty space opened up inside me, a vacuum where fear and relief swirled together. When I arrived, the street below our penthouse was a chaotic mess of flashing red and blue lights. Yellow tape cordoned off the building. A crowd of neighbors stood in their pajamas, whispering and pointing up. "I live here. Sarah Miller. My husband..." My voice broke, a perfectly practiced tremor. That' s when I saw him: Detective Mark Johnson, his face a hard, unreadable mask. He didn't offer condolences. He just stared, his tired eyes seeming to miss nothing. Then, a scream cut through the air. Everyone' s head snapped up. High above, on the balcony of our penthouse, a figure stood silhouetted against the night sky - Susan, my mother-in-law. For a heartbeat, she just stood there, a dark shape against the city' s glow. Then she leaned forward and simply stepped off. The sound that followed was wet and final, a sickening thud that echoed off the pavement. It splattered across the clean, sterile crime scene, a graphic, final punctuation mark. I felt a genuine shock ripple through me. My knees buckled and I grabbed the detective' s arm for support. Tears, real this time, streamed down my face. My husband dead upstairs, my mother-in-law a broken thing on the concrete below. It was the perfect picture of a woman shattered by tragedy. Detective Johnson didn't move. He didn't comfort me. He just looked down at my hand on his arm, then back up at my face. His voice was low and steady, cutting through my manufactured sobs. "You did this." I froze. The world seemed to stop spinning. My breath caught in my throat. "What?" I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Your husband. Your mother-in-law," he said, his eyes drilling into me. "The other thirteen. You killed them all, didn't you, Sarah?" It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A certainty so absolute, so unexpected, it almost knocked me off my feet for real. This was not part of the plan. No one was supposed to see past the grieving widow. Inside, a cold, hard knot of fury began to tighten. This man, this stranger, was looking at me and seeing the truth. Or at least, a version of it. "How can you say that?" I cried, pulling my hand back as if I' d been burned. "My husband... my... Susan... they're dead! I just lost everything!" I let my voice rise, pitching it with hysteria and pain. "Detective, have you lost your mind?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "I was at my sister-in-law's house. All night. Call her. Alice. Alice Brown. She'll tell you." He waved the other officer off. His gaze remained locked on me, intense and unwavering. "I don't need to call anyone, Sarah," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've been on this case from the beginning. Thirteen victims before tonight. A city in fear. But now I see the pattern. They all lead back to you." His certainty was terrifying. It was a solid wall I hadn't expected to hit so soon. He wasn't guessing. He knew something. And in that moment, under the flashing lights, with the scent of death hanging in the air, I knew this was just the beginning. The game was on.

Crime Thriller Mystery Suspense Revenge

Chapter 10

07-07 14:45

Introduction

The city air was thick with sirens, a constant wail that had become the sound of dread.

Thirteen brutal murders had everyone locking their doors a little tighter.

I never thought the fourteenth would be mine.

The call came just after midnight.

"Mrs. Miller? This is the police. There's been an incident at your residence."

I knew before he said another word: David was gone.

A cold, empty space opened up inside me, a vacuum where fear and relief swirled together.

When I arrived, the street below our penthouse was a chaotic mess of flashing red and blue lights.

Yellow tape cordoned off the building.

A crowd of neighbors stood in their pajamas, whispering and pointing up.

"I live here. Sarah Miller. My husband..." My voice broke, a perfectly practiced tremor.

That' s when I saw him: Detective Mark Johnson, his face a hard, unreadable mask.

He didn't offer condolences.

He just stared, his tired eyes seeming to miss nothing.

Then, a scream cut through the air.

Everyone' s head snapped up.

High above, on the balcony of our penthouse, a figure stood silhouetted against the night sky - Susan, my mother-in-law.

For a heartbeat, she just stood there, a dark shape against the city' s glow.

Then she leaned forward and simply stepped off.

The sound that followed was wet and final, a sickening thud that echoed off the pavement.

It splattered across the clean, sterile crime scene, a graphic, final punctuation mark.

I felt a genuine shock ripple through me.

My knees buckled and I grabbed the detective' s arm for support.

Tears, real this time, streamed down my face.

My husband dead upstairs, my mother-in-law a broken thing on the concrete below.

It was the perfect picture of a woman shattered by tragedy.

Detective Johnson didn't move.

He didn't comfort me.

He just looked down at my hand on his arm, then back up at my face.

His voice was low and steady, cutting through my manufactured sobs.

"You did this."

I froze.

The world seemed to stop spinning.

My breath caught in my throat.

"What?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"Your husband. Your mother-in-law," he said, his eyes drilling into me. "The other thirteen. You killed them all, didn't you, Sarah?"

It wasn't a question.

It was a statement.

A certainty so absolute, so unexpected, it almost knocked me off my feet for real.

This was not part of the plan.

No one was supposed to see past the grieving widow.

Inside, a cold, hard knot of fury began to tighten.

This man, this stranger, was looking at me and seeing the truth.

Or at least, a version of it.

"How can you say that?" I cried, pulling my hand back as if I' d been burned. "My husband... my... Susan... they're dead! I just lost everything!"

I let my voice rise, pitching it with hysteria and pain.

"Detective, have you lost your mind?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "I was at my sister-in-law's house. All night. Call her. Alice. Alice Brown. She'll tell you."

He waved the other officer off.

His gaze remained locked on me, intense and unwavering.

"I don't need to call anyone, Sarah," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've been on this case from the beginning. Thirteen victims before tonight. A city in fear. But now I see the pattern. They all lead back to you."

His certainty was terrifying.

It was a solid wall I hadn't expected to hit so soon.

He wasn't guessing.

He knew something.

And in that moment, under the flashing lights, with the scent of death hanging in the air, I knew this was just the beginning.

The game was on.