Julia was on the brink, and it was annoying the hell out of her. She was one of a handful of journalists in their sleepy town, usually assigned to the darker deeds. Visiting the nearest prison and interviewing people on death row at least once a week, writing about break-ins, vandalism, everything one could imagine. Her nights were spent with a glass of wine and her laptop, writing about the darkest depths of humanity.<br/><br/>She resided in the house that once belonged to her parents, Neil and Sarah Graham. About a decade before, when she was fifteen, they died in a car accident, leaving her an orphan with a scar on her ribcage from the wreck. Her aunt took care of her until she was eighteen, when she started doing online classes and moved back to her parent’s home. One dog later, and it felt like hers. It was a slow process, replacing the things that had been her parents with things that were hers. The recliner with a quilt draped over it that her father had spent most of his time on had been moved, she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it, the ugly rug that her mother had adored was moved to storage.<br/><br/>She was in her living room with a mug of tea when she heard the knock on her door, the dog at her feet peeking up. “Don’t.” She warned before he could bark. She got to her feet quickly, setting the mug down as she walked to the door. It was made mostly of glass, so she saw the officer before she opened it, her heart sinking slightly. Cops didn’t tend to like her or her work very much, not that she really blamed them.<br/><br/>She pulled the door open, forcing a smile onto her face. She recognized the officer, though his name, she couldn’t recall. “Afternoon, sir. Help you with something?” She asked, straightening slightly to raise to her height of 5’7”, not the most impressive in the world. She knew about the murder, she’d been researching it all day, and was planning on visiting the murder site when the cops had all gone home for the night and she could get past the crime tape safely.