Page 1 of Date Night

Chapter 1

Starla

“Isn’t that where they found the body?” Braylon stares at the grass-covered area in amazement.

He isn’t the only one.

I’m just as captivated by the scene.

Nothing stands out. The grass is green and lush. The large oak tree is full of thick branches and leaves.

The small area overlooks the horizon, giving an almost perfect view of the city while also offering nearly perfect privacy.

The perfect place for a romantic date and also the perfect place to stage a body.

It’s the last place the city’s most famous serial killer left his final victim.

The local news crews had a field day when the monster was still active, but there hadn’t been another killing in the last five years.

The Date Night Killer was officially old news. No one wanted to report on old news.

That’s why I know the piece I want to do will take the world by storm; I just have to get the people in this small town to open up.

Not something many of them are too happy to do.

The Date Night Killer is a black mark on the soul of this town, and they want nothing more than to pretend it never happened.

I can’t allow that.

I’m sure this documentary will put me on the map in the journalism world, so I’m going through with it no matter who has a problem with it.

“Yeah, they found the girl right there against the tree, tied up and with rose petals sprinkled around her.” I shake my head and move closer to the space.

Looking down at the area, there’s no hint of what happened there. It’s as if the earth itself tried to swallow up the bad memories and cover them up with perfectly manicured grass.

“You really think we’re going to find out more than what the police reported?” Braylon asks, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

“I don’t know what we’re going to find, but I can tell you this: if everything was already out in the open, the local PD wouldn’t be bitching so much about me doing this documentary. No, there’s more, and we’re going to find it.” I smile wide at Braylon and slap him a high five.

This is definitely going to be the documentary of the year.

The high of seeing the crime site plummets to a depressing low the minute I walk into my rental home.

It’s the first time I’m seeing it in person. I set everything up online via Craigslist. Of course, the pictures look nothing like the real thing.

The real thing is nothing more than a shit show.

It’s a small one-bedroom house. It’s more than enough space, but that’s the only good thing I can say about it.

The living room is stained and has a strong odor to it. The paint is peeling off the lemon-lime colored walls. The furniture is run down. It’s so bad I’m almost scared to sit. I could buy a few pieces while I’m here, but that would mean I’d have to use my limited resources. Either I use everything I have to get this documentary off the ground or I live comfortably. There’s no in-between.

With a sigh, I grab my suitcase and walk to the back where the bedroom is.

The quilt on the bed looks like it’s seen better days, but luckily I brought my own. I don’t go anywhere without it.

Carefully, not to pull any of the threads, I grab the quilt from my suitcase.

A frog forms in my throat as I see all the patches. My mother worked on this quilt for nearly a year, making sure to find the perfect ones. Ones that reminded me of her.

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