The police sirens have been on for the past 3 hours…I think I may go deaf.

My boots clack against the wood floor as I make my way to the suicide scene. A report from his friend that he didn’t go to the lecture and that he seemed particularly…sad? That report was made after the suicide attempt with 1 hour…. What a caring friend.

I open the door. “God”, I make my way to the scene. A teenage boy. Hanging from a rope that’s attached to the ceiling….

“The stool isn’t tipped over like most suicide cases…”, I observe before grabbing his cold skin, taking him out of the rope. Hold up….

This isn’t a suicide attempt…. There’s no marks on his neck from where he hung himself….

Murder.

I touch the young man’s hair, feeling it slightly damp. Drowned? Who…. The friend? How could he know that his friend attempted suicide after only 1 hour…. He claimed he didn’t come here…. So how did he know?

Jessica walks in and raises an eyebrow when she sees me holding the victim. “Are you coddling him, Mr Tanner?”, she asks.

“Murder”, I mutter.

“What?”, she steps in next to me.

“This isn’t a suicide…. It’s a murder.”…