• Pretty hands.

    Music with a pulsated tempo crooned to the room, the stage lights the only lights that held back the night. A beautiful woman danced, her long dark hair falling gracefully down her back. Clad in shining clothes that jingled, the belly dancer floated elegantly around the stage, eyes shining and mouth smiling. Always perfect, always ready, her hands fluttered about, emphasizing her grace.

    Pretty hands.

    Officers Jamie Larson and Oliver Henderson watched from the third row, drinking iced water languidly. Turning to his companion, Oliver said in his gruff voice, “Arianna’s outdone herself. She’s dancing better than ever.”

    Jamie nodded. “Probably because we caught Darian.”

    Oliver grunted. “Never trusted that freak. Always watching those girls, always muttering the same thing.”

    Pretty hands.

    “She was so relieved when we caught him. It must have been terrifying for her, being his next target.”

    “You weren’t scared that he’d kill you to get to her?” Oliver asked.

    “No. Someone’s always trying to kill us detectives,” Jamie said with a laugh.

    Pretty hands.

    As they swapped gossip, they pointedly ignored the hungry stares most of the men were directing at Arianna. Hundreds of eyes, watching her every move. Even in the shadows, someone lurked, watching her with a steely glint in their eyes.

    “Still... wasn’t it odd how he wept when we told him Alexandria was dead?” Jamie mused. Oliver gave her a curious look. “It was slightly weird. You’d think that if he murdered her, he wouldn’t be screaming about her death.”

    “Maybe he’s faking it.”

    “He screamed for hours. He was inconsolable.”

    “Then he’s probably insane. Probably didn’t remember killing her. It’s hard to remember every face you’ve murdered,” Oliver said with a snort.

    “She was one of his favorite students,” Jamie reminded him.

    “Not like his sister. Remember what he said? She doesn’t have it.”

    Pretty hands.

    Bowing elaborately, Arianna danced gracefully off the stage, exiting, as always, stage right.

    Jamie and Oliver clapped with everyone else, everyone except the person with the steely eyes who silently got up and wandered towards the right hand side of the stage.

    “At least she’s safe,” Jamie said loudly.

    As the next dancer started to perform, there was a bang, making everyone jump. Hands flying to the handles of their guns, Jamie and Oliver ran to the stage, where a young belly dancer had run out, sobbing hysterically. “What happened?” Jamie asked her quietly and Oliver roared for everyone to remain calm.

    “Arianna, she... she....” the girl trailed off, eyes wide, and simply pointed.

    Stepping cautiously towards the curtains, Jamie saw out of the shadows a limp arm, a hand poised, fingers curled in a show of delicacy. “Oh God....”

    Pretty hands.