Page 8

I arrived at the edge of chaos, my heart hammering, yet my mind clear. The early morning sun glimmered off the ocean, an incongruous backdrop to the horror unfolding on the beach. My gaze fixed on the water where a small crowd had gathered, their silhouettes stark against the rising light.

"Step back!"

My voice sliced through the murmurings and sobs, commanding attention as I shouldered my way through the throng of pajama-clad guests. Instincts honed by years of service took over. I scanned the scene: Victoria was crumpled near the shore, her friends were running to her, clutching her, and Mark's lifeless form was bobbing in the gentle waves. Kara, Jen, Amy, and Michelle were all there, and all their eyes were on me.

"Someone call 911," I directed, my eyes never leaving what needed to be done. "Now."

"Already on it," came a shaky reply from somewhere behind me.

"Good." I nodded curtly. "We need to get him out of the water. Carefully. I'll guide his shoulders. Who can take his legs?"

Michelle and Jen stepped forward, Michelle’s face set with grim determination, while Jen’s was pale and drawn.

"Slowly now," I instructed as we waded into the shallows, my hands steady despite the turmoil inside me. My fingers brushed Mark's cold skin, and I suppressed a shudder.

"On three. One… two… three."

Together, we lifted him, moving toward the beach.

"Get those blankets ready!" I called to the onlookers, who scrambled to obey. As we laid Mark down on the sand, I checked for any signs of life, already knowing it was too late.

"Keep everyone back," I told a lanky teen who seemed eager to help.

My words were clipped and efficient. I surveyed the scene, each detail etching itself into my memory—the way Mark's hair fanned out like a halo, the unnatural angle of his arm.

"Mom?" Olivia's voice reached me, quivering with fear.

"Stay back, sweetheart." My response was automatic, even though my heart broke for the grief she was about to experience.

"Is he…?" Olivia's question hung in the air, unfinished.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," I said, though certainty clawed at my throat. I knew it was too late.

She stared at her friend, shock edged into her face. I needed to help her snap out of it.

"What happened?" The whispered question came from a nearby guest, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Did he drown?”

"We'll find out," I promised, though my mind raced ahead to the investigation that loomed before us. I stared at Mark’s throat and saw marks, visible bruises resembling finger marks. I knew in that second that this was no accident. Someone had strangled Mark. There was also a long abrasion on his hand, looking like a deep cut. Had someone tried to stab him, and this was a deflection, and then decided to strangle him instead? Maybe he had put up a fight?

This is not good.

"Mom…." Olivia's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

Her gaze lingered on Victoria, who now sobbed into the embrace of another woman.

"Keep everyone back," I barked again, the agent in me surfacing despite the tremor in my voice.

I turned toward Mark's friends, who had come to celebrate Mark’s birthday. They were a tangle of arms and tears. Their grief was a living thing pulsating through the air.

But Olivia stood apart, her stillness almost more jarring than their wailing.