CHAPTER FIVE ╱ The Cursed Cove

            IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A PROMISING JUNE MORNING LIKE ANY OTHER, but it had become absorbed by stunning shelf clouds which inadvertently painted the sky a murky gray. The skies darkened with every passing moment, not only brewing a storm within the atmosphere, but also within River's lower abdomen.

A raw, pulsing ache. Death will swallow us all whole one day, but now seemed far too soon. Coralie Meyers was girlhood gone rotten, rich-natured luxury with a foul tongue. She didn't deserve this.

      Right?

River eased down the cliff's edge, a glint of yellow tape catching his sapphire eyes. He'd just passed by a coroner's van. Briefly, Amie's lifeless body flickered through his mind. With one blink, she was gone. Again.

His passenger remained hip-pressed to the corner of his Porsche. He'd urged her to come along, fearful that if he'd left her behind, the assailant at fault for the blood-stained taunt would return, finish her off, maybe? Seemed likely enough.

Intaking a breath of mildewed morning air, River found himself bracing the jagged rocks as he neared the cave he wasn't fond to be so familiar with.

Where they'd laid Amie to rest.

Where Coralie was left to decompose, her rotten exterior uniting with her rancid insides. Swallowing his judgements, he trudged further until he was met by a swarm of investigators. Crime scene specialists and forensics teams were gathered around a taped off figure.

      Waterlogged, mucky blonde hair was splayed among the rocks. The tide was low. River was surprised her body hadn't been relocated. Surely, any evidence had been swept away into the oceanic abyss. Much like before.

      Stowing his hands inside of the pockets of his slacks, he eased forward. His eyes traveled until they settled upon Rich, whose face was solemn and lacked much color. As if in a trance, he hadn't noted River's arrival until the man's bicep brushed against his own.

      River cast an earnest gaze downward, where Coralie's body had been fixed. Upon first glance, he figured she'd been placed there rather than have been subject of an accidental fall. She seemed so effortless; poetically tragic, even now.

      Further trepidation settled inside of his stomach, drilling into his bones and subjecting them to a consistent ache. He felt Rich spare him a glance. River rolled his shoulders, cast his eyes upon the thrashing waves. A seagull dipped behind another set of jagged rocks, then emerged, and perched, its beady eyes inflamed and scorching through the man's skin.

      Cracking his neck, he glanced back at Coralie. Her eyes were blown wide, the once blue now faded and almost gray. Her skin matched her eyes. Decayed skin and purple veins. Bunched up blonde locks, bloodstained, and wet. A putrid scent evaded River's senses and suddenly, he was spotting stars, clouding his vision, and forcing him backwards.

      He adjusted his hands at his hips as he steadied his feet at the cove's edge. Swallowing the bile that threatened to depart from his esophagus, he drew a harsh breath.

      Rich edged toward the man, settling a palm over his shoulder. He gave it a firm squeeze. "It's a lot to process, man. Cora, well, you and I both know she wasn't perfect, but . . . shit, man! This? She didn't didn't deserve this."

      River hated that distant creature within him calling out, an impure echo: Oh, yes she did. We all do for Amie's sake! Silencing it with a gulp, he turned his head towards the sandy blonde-haired man with red-rimmed eyes and a prominent frown craved into his lips.

       "No, she sure as hell didn't." The words kneaded into him, right down to the marrow. The razor sharp words sliced his throat, tiny little shards of retribution. His bleeding esophagus burned as he swallowed.

      He carried his body back toward Coralie's lifeless one. Staring into those gray eyes, he stifled a breath. Rich had followed him back, stood next to him, and had forced his jade-tinted eyes to look down upon her as well.

       "Did somebody find her this way, witness anything? Any word at all?" River inquired, his voice stern as he analyzed Coralie's body from an investigative perspective.

      There was slight bruising just around her elbow as if someone had gripped her tightly, another seemed to be forming around the base of her neck, which indicated she hadn't been sprawled against the jagged rock for long.

      Lacerations were scattered across her ivory skin. Her bones had been contorted as a result of the fall, but in a way that one wouldn't notice them to be broken; clasped at her side as if she were arranged that way by someone other than nature. River tried his absolute best to resolve the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, opting for a mint he kept tucked away in the back pockets of his slacks.

      Rich spoke up from River's side as River sucked the mint taste from his peppermint candy. "No witnesses that we know of. A couple of runners found her like this. They reported it anonymously at first considering this is private property and all. Doggins traced the call. Chief's haulin' them in. I expect they won't have too much to say, but you never know."

      River hummed a response, then lowered himself down on bent knees to inspect Coralie's face at a closer proximity. Rich watched him, caught Coralie's empty eyes again, and turned away.

      River appeared to be analyzing her to outsiders, but really, he was murmuring a silent prayer to himself for the girl he once knew. A girl some would say didn't deserve the intercession, but River knew better than to drown himself in the some.

      Everyone deserved a prayer, a proper send off, even the Devil themself.