Chapter Text
They wanted to scare someone, Ben thought as he entered a dimly lit, warmly decorated room. But who? Not this dead family, who had been viciously slaughtered for God knows what reason.
The first floor told a threatening and bloody story that set forth the murder. Every piece of furniture of the ground level had been either turned over or destroyed- in some cases, both. There were massive holes from someone obviously punching their way through the thin plaster, and much smaller ones, dozens of them, littered around. A morderen glass chandelier lay scattered in shards and splinters all over what used to be a bright;y coloured oriental rug.
The crime scene didn’t make any sense. But what was worse is that it had no direct resemblance of anything that had happened in Midsomer during Ben’s experience in the county, or even anything outside of the place he’d spent most of his police life.
A bullet-ridden four seated sofa had been carelessly pushed against the threshold between the living room and the kitchen and dining area to make room in front of the fireplace. That was where the first three bodies were resting.
It was safe to say that Ben had seen some horrendous shit whilst investigating murders, this scene, the tragicness of it, stopped him in his tracks.
It was as John said, the three victims had all been carved into, not with surgical precision but with a knife, they were ripped completely open. Their innards were thrown across the floor, their hearts all being held in their hands. There were blood splatters and stains on nearly every nearby wall, the ceiling, the furniture and a horrendous pool of blood had extended around the bodies. These people hadn’t been attacked by people, no. They were attacked by a monster.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Ben muttered under his breath. He felt something rise in his throat and quickly looked away, resting a hand over his mouth.
John breathed out a reply from behind him, “Amen”
Neither of them looked at eachother, though. This was the type of brutal murder scene that people just tried to get through and get out the house with at least a small amount of their sanity in tact.
The blood patterns around the room suggested that the family members had all been killed individually and then dragged together against the fireplace.
Something had fueled whatever monsters had done this and Ben agreed with John in the sense that there was more than one killer. But what happened? Why was the family massacred? Ritual? Drugs? Revenge?
But the whole family?
He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, promising himself to sort through them later. Find the method first and then the motive, he told himself.
He slowly circled the bodies and body contents, carefully stepping over and around the puddles of blood. There didn’t seem to be any cohesion to the carving, nor the murder for that fact.
The mother’s throat was slit; the mother had a bullet wound to the forehead; and the son’s head was turned away at an unnatural angle, like his neck had been broken.
John moved around the paling detective to see the son’s face. It was like the son was looking directly at him. He leaned in for a closer look and he suddenly felt dizzy. His legs felt weak and backed away quickly, leaning against the wall for support, his eyes still fixed on the boy’s face.
Oh God! Good God, no!
Alex Lewis.
John knew him- God how was he going to tell Betty.
Alex was a kid that went to the same school as Betty, the same class. He was one of Betty’s first friends.
And now Alex had been murdered, along with his family.