Loving The Prime Suspect

Case File #01

Victim: Ophelia Ashby

Time: 11:42 PM

Location: St. Jude’s Academy, South Tower Courtyard

Status: Deceased

Primary Suspect: Maverick Beaumont

The bass from the outdoor speakers vibrated through the stone tiles of the central courtyard. Velvet drapes, crystal chandeliers hanging from wooden beams, and silver champagne trays had turned the open grounds of St. Jude’s Academy into a high-society ballroom.

Azalea Ashcroft stood near the back, holding a glass of cheap sparkling cider. As a scholarship student, slipping into the background was a skill she had perfected. Her thrifted black dress looked out of place among the thousands-of-dollars designer gowns surrounding her, but she didn't care. She was just waiting for midnight so she could escape back to her dorm.

Suddenly, the upbeat music cut off with a harsh screech.

The crowd went completely still. Whispers broke out like wildfire. Azalea leaned past a stone pillar to see what was happening on the main dance floor.

Ophelia Ashby, the school's reigning Queen Bee, was standing in the center of the lights in a stunning emerald green silk dress. Her face was pale, her hands shaking violently. Standing directly across from her was Maverick Beaumont—heir to Beaumont International, and the one guy at St. Jude's whom even the teachers were afraid to cross.

"I said we're done, Ophelia," Maverick’s voice carried across the silent yard, cold and sharp as broken glass.

"You can't just throw me away, Maverick!" Ophelia screamed, tears streaming down her face, ruining her makeup. "You know what I know! You think you can just walk away?"

Maverick didn't flinch. His dark eyes remained completely devoid of emotion. He stepped closer, leaning down to whisper something into her ear.

Ophelia gasped, taking a step back as if he had slapped her. Tears spilled over her cheeks as she turned around, shoved through the crowd, and ran weeping toward the dark corridor leading to the South Tower.

Maverick stood there for a second, casually adjusting his cuffs. Without a word to the stunned crowd, he turned on his heel and walked away into the shadows of the west wing.

The music started again, but the party was ruined. Everyone was whispering, gossiping about the dramatic breakup.

Feeling suffocated by the heavy atmosphere, Azalea decided to leave. She walked up the stairs of the South Tower terrace, which overlooked the outdoor courtyard where everyone was partying below. The night air was cool, and a light rain had started to fall, soaking the stone railing.

Azalea rested her hands on the cold stone, looking down at the dance floor from the high terrace.

Then, she heard it.

A sharp gasp from the upper deck right above her. A scuffle of leather shoes against wet stone.

"No…please! Don't do this!" Ophelia’s terrified voice rang out.

Azalea froze. Before she could move, a loud snap echoed through the air.

A scream cut through the music below, followed by a flash of emerald green silk.

THUD.

Ophelia’s body crashed directly onto the middle of the outdoor dance floor below.

Screams exploded from the crowd. Champagne glasses shattered on the stone. Total chaos broke out as people scrambled away in terror.

Azalea's heart stopped. She looked down over the railing; Ophelia was lying motionless right under the party lights, a pool of blood spreading into her silk dress.

A faint scraping sound came from the upper deck stairs above Azalea.

Azalea snapped her head up. Standing at the top of the terrace stairs was a tall silhouette wearing a dark suit. The rain poured over the figure, making it impossible to see a face.

The silhouette looked directly down at Azalea standing in the shadows. For two agonizing seconds, their eyes locked. Then, the figure stepped back into the darkness and vanished.

Panic hit Azalea like a freight train. She turned and ran down the stairs, sprinting into the dimly lit hallway of the tower. She needed to get help. She needed to get away.

As she rounded the corner near the main exit, a shadow stepped out from the side hallway, blocking her path completely.

Azalea stumbled back, almost falling.

It was Maverick.

His suit jacket was gone, his white shirt wet from the rain, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Rain dripped from his dark hair down his sharp jawline.

"Where are you running, Ashcroft?" his voice was dangerously smooth.

Azalea pressed her back against the wall, her chest heaving. "Ophelia... she fell! Someone pushed her from the top of the terrace!"

Maverick didn't look shocked. He didn't blink. He slowly stepped closer, trapping her against the wall by resting his hand on the stone right beside her head.

"Is that so?" he whispered, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. The smell of rain and expensive cologne filled her senses. "And what did you see, Azalea?"

"I... I saw a silhouette," Azalea stammered, her heart hammering against her ribs. "A tall guy in a suit. Just like yours."

A dark, dangerous smile touched Maverick's lips. "Be very careful about what you say next. The police are coming. They will look for someone to blame."

The distant sirens blared through the rainy night, getting closer.

Maverick reached out, his long fingers catching a damp strand of hair sticking to Azalea's cheek, gently tucking it behind her ear. His touch was light, but it sent a sharp shiver straight down her spine.

"You were the only witness up there," Maverick whispered into her ear. "Which makes you the most dangerous person in this school to whoever killed her."

"Are you threatening me?" Azalea choked out.

Maverick pulled back slightly, his dark eyes trapping her. "I'm giving you a choice. Tell the police you saw nothing, or find out what happens when you make an enemy out of me."

Sirens echoed in the courtyard outside, red and blue lights flashing against the wet windows.

Azalea stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes drifted down to his left arm resting against the wall, and her blood ran cold.

The silver cufflink on his left sleeve was missing. In its place was a torn, jagged piece of dark thread, dripping with rainwater.