Stone crosses towered crookedly above the lumpy ground. The dates commemorated dead from decades ago. Some had ashy flowers, once silk and velvet, now bleached by the sun.
But today there was no sun. The graveyard wasn't particularly frightening or classic; the stones were lopsided and unevenly arranged, but there was no hanging moss or shaded corners. Below the graves, the sea lapped against a cliff. Even that wasn't unusual, as the sea was almost always calm.
In short, the graveyard wasn't a frightening or even mildly uneasy place. It sat peacefully on the top of its hill slowly disappearing as the sea eroded closer and closer, neither in a hurry.
The graveyard wasn't a place you would find a dead body. Not a warm one.
Yet the pale hands and green dress were unmistakeably that of the mayor's daughter. The pool of blood by her head could have been anyone's, but judging by the gash on her scalp and the bloody tennis racket next to her, it was hers.
Her ex-boyfriend leant against a nearby gravestone. He was a tennis player. He was even covered in blood. However, he didn't kill her. That was painfully obvious because he was dead too.
The important things about the graveyard were that it was quiet, it was normal, and it was never visited by anyone.
The first thought in anybody's head would be to kill them here and leave their bodies for the sea to slowly get too. No one would ever find them.
Naturally, the second thought was that was exactly where everyone would look.
Sadly, no one did.
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