Zara & Mia: The necklace

Metallic. Pungent. Sweet. Vile.

A heavy, festering scent was wafting in the raw acrid air. It was a scent I knew all too well—a scent I knew with experience. Death was near. Someone, or something, died here. I covered my nose before inhaling again, all the odors mixing and hitting the back of my throat. Usually the smell gave me motivation—reason—but this time, all I felt was dread.

I tried not to gag and at the same time wanted to scream. The scream was pulling at my vocal cords, praying to be unleashed.

Please let it not be so. Please let it not be what I think it is.

Hand over mouth, I walked slowly down the hallway, staring down at the wooden floorboards beneath me.

The same floorboards I’ve walked on for the past 6 years.

As I etched closer to the bathroom, the smell grew stronger and this time, I did gag—stomach acid burning my throat. I felt myself trembling from all the nerves, eyes clouding with tears, my pulse in my ears.

“Mia?” I called out.

Nothing.

“Mia! Talk to me!”

Again, nothing.

I was standing in front of the bathroom now, staring at the chipped white paint to try to avoid looking at the blood pooled underneath the door. The red was so dark it looked violet, and, at this point, the smell was taunting me, feeding my intuition.

It may not be what you think. Open the door. Just open it!

And I did.

“Oh my—” The words stopped in my throat, like someone just ripped out my vocal cords.

It felt like the world has stopped. Time was frozen in place as I took in the sight before me. It was surreal, like a dream. But this wasn’t a dream and what I saw before me was very real.

Red. There was red everywhere. Blood was painted on the walls, the mirror, the floor, the shower, and right in the middle lay Mia. My beautiful Mia, with her throat sliced open, body bruised and beaten almost beyond recognition. She was slumped back in the middle of the tub, her body laying horizontal, legs hanging over the side.

No words came as I kneeled in front of her lifeless body, eyes trained on her face as if I hoped her eyes would open—that she would come back to me.

But I knew she was gone.

My baby sister was gone.

____________________________________________

“Mia?” Silence.

“Mia?!” I shouted, banging on the bathroom door.

“Whattttt? What is it?” She called back, annoyance laced in her tone.

“Would you hurry up? I need to get in there.”

She had been in the bathroom for over an hour, getting ready for some date she mentioned earlier in the day. I didn’t care for all the details. Only thing I knew is I was ready to feel the hot water running down my body after a long day of running around town.

Finally, the door opened, and the smell of vanilla along with sweet-scented body wash hit my nose. Mia was grimacing at me, her eyebrows furrowed.

“You look pretty.”

She was wearing a long, spaghetti-strapped, black dress that hugged her slim frame and her dark locs were slicked back into a low bun. She wasn’t the makeup type but, tonight, she wore mascara, with eyeliner tracing her cat-like eyes, and some light gloss.

“Yeah, thanks.” She mumbled, brushing past me.

“Wait.” I said, grabbing her arm.

She stopped and looked at me with dead eyes. I let go.

“Are you okay, like, mentally?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” She was looking at the floor now, fidgeting with her fingers—something she did when she was anxious.

“You can talk to me, Mia. You know I’m here for you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” She looked back up at me, an emotion held in her eyes that I couldn't read.

“Alright, good.”

She nodded her head slowly, shifting her eyes around. She was uncomfortable.

“Well, I love you. Be safe on that date. Call me if anything.”

“Cool, love you too.” And with that, she walked away.

My phone rung then, snapping me back into reality. I pulled it out of my jacket pocket, reading the caller ID.

It was Jackson, my partner.

“Yeah? What’s up?” I stepped away from the bathroom door, wiping the partially dried tears from my face. This had been happening a lot lately—me standing in front of the bathroom door, trying to gain the courage to open it and walk in, only to get sucked into a distant memory of me and Mia.

My therapist said that was normal. All I wanted was for it to stop.

“Hey, there’s been a murder. We need you out here. Thought it might be something you wanted to see.”

“Alright, send me the address.”

“Will do.”

With that, I took my leave, ready to see what awaited me.

___________________________________________

It took me about 20 minutes to get to the address Jackson had sent. The directions led me to a big, beautiful white house that was planted square in the middle of a suburban neighborhood.

I found it odd for there to be a homicide in a neighborhood like this. But, these days, bad things happen anywhere.

Even in your own home.

There were red and blue flashing lights everywhere, yellow caution tape, CSI, the whole shebang. I parked my silver sedan on the gravel pit right next to the house and got out, feeling eager, my nerves leaving me jittery and on edge.

I spotted Jackson and his bushy black hair standing out front, looking around—looking for me—that same stoic expression on his face whenever he witnesses a dead body.

“Jackson!” I called, walking to him.

His dark eyes met mine and he nodded, greeting me. “So, tell me what’s going on.”

“Female victims name is Melina Stewart.” He started as we walked coordinated to the house. I took that as my opportunity to scan the surroundings as I listened, looking for anything, or anyone, that would jump out at me. “She’s a middle-aged single mom. Worked from home while kids were out at school, doing sports, what have you. House cleaner said she hadn’t heard from her and decided to check in when she didn’t get any responses to her messages or calls. Showed up and saw that she had been sliced from ear to ear. The rest, I’ll let you see for yourself.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath.

This was my first homicide back on duty after my leave of absence. My captain suggested—more like voluntold me—that I should take some time off after what happened. I didn’t want to, but I knew that I needed to. My mind wasn’t right—still isn’t. It had been 3 months, and, for some reason, this time felt different. This time I felt uneasy, lacking the motivation from before.

We walked up the stairs and turned right down the hallway, making our way to a brightly lit room. It was the bathroom. There was blood everywhere, along with the sickly-sweet, metallic scent.

The smell of death.

First thing I noticed was how the victims was positioned. Her body was bare and laid in the tub just like how Mia’s was, horizontal, head angled back. She was bruised and beaten badly; neck cut wide open. I couldn’t help but notice how familiar her features were.

Like I knew her.

From the way her robe laid on the floor, it looked as if she had just taken it off to get in the shower. There wasn’t much blood on the shower walls, which suggest that the water might have been running as everything went down.

I pushed away the images of Mia’s body in the same exact position as the victim.

Stay focused, Zara.

My heart was pounding in my chest, my nerves sending chills along my spine. That queasy feeling ran over me, but I shook it off, walking over to get a closer look at the victim.

The woman looked young, not as old as she was said to be—could pass for late twenties. Her thick, curly hair was messy and matted, because of all the blood, with a visible bald spot next to her temple. I assumed that the killer had maybe yanked her by the hair while she was trying to fend him off.

Something I found odd was the shiny gold necklace around her neck. As I shifted closer, I noticed there was no blood on it, like it was placed on her after the fact. The thin piece of jewelry looked familiar, felt familiar.

“Jackson, come here.” I heard his footsteps as I continued to study the necklace. There was a small pendant on it. It was a baby angel with white wings, the left wing chipped at the top.

“Did you notice the necklace?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“What looks off about it to you?”

“Um…hm. Well—wow. There’s no blood.” His tone was skeptical as he leaned closer to get a better look. "That's strange, considering..." He waved his hands to gesture to the blood bath around us.

“Exactly, like it was put on her after she was killed.” He hummed in agreeance.

As I peered closer, it finally struck me.

“What the fuck—” I gasped out, taking a step back, my pulse thumping in my ears.

“What? What is it?”

“The necklace…it was Mia’s.”