The vineyard was large, lanes just wide enough to have trucks pass through picking up the baskets. The once lush vines now bare and stiff as the cold november air drifts through each row. I was sent here under the request of my superior, sending me the location and instructed to be here before sunset. The case had gone cold 3 months ago, and our crime scene was contaminated thanks to harvest sesaon.

Annabelle Karlson, age 15, white female, murdered. Her body was found in a corn field 3 miles from town. She was discovered by the Farmer’s daughter and her boyfirend trying to find a place to fool around in; _damn kids_. Annabelle was identified by Sophie Randall, Austin Randall’s daughter, and called the police. This all happened six months ago, every lead we had turned up either a wild goose chase or a dead end. But never had I thought to ask the owner of the vineyard; it’s located 10miles away from where Annabelle was discovered. The property alone would have to be searched by the combined man power of 3 towns.

I pulled into the dirt lot, climbed out of the beat up sedan issued by the state. The soud of the car door shutting echoed against the wind, the crunching of every step vibrated my ear drums. The stagnant quiet sent violent shivers down my spine. The place looked abandoned outside of harvest season, everything dismally dark as the end of fall approached, winter would be here in a couple of weeks. Then everything would be covered in a light dusting of snow.

“Hello? Mr. Lubov?” I call out. “Mr. Lubov?” I might as well have been whispering for I never got response. The building north of me was dark, the front door was locked tight with a pad lock the size of my hand. _That’s a bit excessive_. As I approached the door, in the corner of a front window the curtains had moved. The jossled fabric tore my attention away from everything. I tracted my way around to the back of the building to see the door cracked open. Something told me to go look, to open the door. The wind picked up and made the door fly open, slamming against the adjacent wall and sticking there. The dark void that filled the house gave an erie growl. The low tone felt like thunder rumbling in my chest. I take a few steps forward, inching my way towards the entrance. I reached the threshold, the hairs raised on the back of my neck as the low throaty growl rushed my head. I was about to cross the frame.

“Can I help you?” I jumped back, drawing my gun and swinging it directly behind me. And there stood a man with striking features. His eyes were a piercing blue and shot right through me. His long black hair tied into a loose braid lay over his broad shoulder. My eyes wondered all over his face, admiring the structure of his jaw line and strong nose. He clears his throat, pulling me from my trance. “If you are quite finsihed gawking, please explain who you are.” His voice was deep with a harsh annoyed tone to my sudden shock at how handsome he was.

“Uh..oh right, I’m,” I fumble putting my gun away and getting my badge. This man had me all sorts of flustered, _get a hold of yourself!_ “Detective Persy Styx, with MCPD. I was told to meet with Mr. Lubov, the owner of the vineyard.” My heart hammered in my chest as he took a step closer to me, my feet unwanting to move.

“Well, Detective, I am Declan Lubov, owner of this dead vineyard.” His words were like silk as they rolled out past his hard lips. The scruff growing around them and up his jaw looked to be about 3weeks thick, he must’ve shaved back in October. “I’m to assume Captain Fareway sent you regarding that poor farm girl that died back in May.”

“So you’ve been informed of my coming, good then that makes things easier.” Talking to him is the hard part, every thought I have is just wanting to land my lips on his. He takes another step towards me. My heart pounded so hard that it could burst out of my chest.

“I have offered my assistance in the past with cases like these, so yes. Shall we head inside? It is dreadfully cold out here.” He continues on past me, his collagne invaded my senses. He smelled of cedar and honey. I subconciously wondered after him like a thirsty school girl.

Once inside the building, the over head light came on in a warm glow illuminating an open space. The low growl I heard earlier came from the far opposite corner of the room. A black and gold phonograph stood there with a record spinning on it. The needle was right at the end of the record. Declan moved behind me to dislodge the door from the magnetic lock, closing the door.

“This way, Detective.” He gestured for me to move to a sitting room at the far end of the long hall. It was welcoming with soft cushioned chairs and love seats and a small glass coffee table at the center. He moved like flowing water and somehow made the room glow despite the overcast gray seeping through the translucent curtains. Declan takes the loveseat, and I in the adjacent chair, sinking deep into the cushion.

“Mr. Lubov,” I started

“Please, Detective, call me Declan.” His voice was soft, but stern with his request.

“Of course, Declan.” Adjusting in the overly soft seat, “Captian Fareway didn’t tell me anything besides to meet with you.” From the hallway, a figure emerges holding a silver tray. I jumped at the sight of a small woman carrying in glasses and a long neck bottle of red wine. The lable was in italian but at the bottom read _Sweet Italian Wine_.

“Fareway sent me the case file and I had noticed that a very important detail was over looked.” The woman placed the tray on the table and poured the wine to about halway in the glasses. “Thank you, Violet. Detective?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m more of a moscato drinker.”

“Humor me please.” Delcan persisted, giving me a dashing smile. His teeth are perfect and white, and the final blow to make me reach for the glass. “The girl…Annamay?”

“Annabelle.”

“Ah, yes. She was giving us a helping hand here the day she was killed. The detail that was overlooked is a time frame.” He picks his glass up and takes a sip, I do the same.

“What was she doing here?” The wine was sweet, reminding me of the grape juice i would drink as a kid, just with the warm rush of alcohol to follow behind very mildly.

“From 3pm to 8pm, Annabelle would come in and help pick weeds, spray the vines with vitamins, and then help clean up the property. Once in a while she would come help Violet with the house.”

“Annabelle would get done with school around 2:45pm, and this is a 15min drive from the school.” I take another sip of the wine, it was quite delicious. I really wasn’t much of a red wine drinker, I could never stand bitter things, so I stuck to the moscatos, or fruit wines. “Did she ever say anything about her life at home? Being gone for 5hrs everyday would’ve made any parent worried.”

“She never really talked about herself all that much, just the occasional story here and there.” Declan reaches up to sweep a stray lock of hair behind his ear, “There was one time she came in looking distraught. I found her in the barn crying. Thats when she told me what was happening at home.” Declan goes on to tell me the most horrific story I’ve ever heard.

“Annabelle has been getting molested _and_ raped by not only her father, but by _most _of the men that entered that house?”

“Since she was 6yrs old, and that day she told me, she found out that she was pregnant with one of six men’s child. She didn’t know who the father was.” Regardless of which man did it, it still counts as incest, and each one of those six men are look at 15yrs minimum if the story checks out.

“Did she tell you all who was involved?” I had disregarded my note pad and just stuck my recorded on the table next to the tray.

“Her father, Fredric. Her brother, Justin. The Brother in law, Michael. And Kathy’s three brothers, Henry, Adam, and Dan Hardwick.” My partner, Kasin Rodgers, had interviewed the father, brother, and uncle, the other 3 had alibis for the night of her death.

“Do you know if she mentioned the pregnancy to anyone else?”

“After she left that day, she hardly came in for the week. Each time I would see Annabelle, she was bundled up like it was -12º outside.” Declan stood with grace, his hands held behind him as he made way for the window. “I hope she gets justice.”

“I’ll deliver it on a silver platter, i can guarantee that.” I struggled to rise out of the chair, the damn thing was trying to swallow me whole if i hadnt of moved sooner. As I rose, my head became extremely light. The room turning dark and hazey. “What’s happening?” My speech slurred out of me. I hadn’t even had a glass of wine, but I felt sloshed as the room began to spin. Heat rushed my body, my legs grew weak.

“Oh, right. Detective Styx, would mind staying for a bit, I’d like to…talk a…bit more…about……” His words trailed off as my body became heavy. I fell hard to the worn wooden floors. My head turned towards Declan, and the last sight before me was his devlish grin.

Then there was nothing. The heaviness engulfed me, darkness clouded my mind. I was going to die.