5:30 a.m., Folkestone

          The carbon-black car entered the yard of the house of Grace's parents. They descended the vehicle and went to the door, David pressing the buzzer, beeping loudly and continuously, standing impatiently out. Finally, the door flung open and a women's face appeared, her eyes half-opened and red-rimmed with drowsiness. 

   "Hello, who are you?" she said, benevolently and slumberously.  

   "Sorry, madame but your child, Grace's body had been found dead, laying on the shore of the White Cliffs of Dover," David explained, "If you could let us in, we can ask some question concerning the death of the girl."

The mother commenced to have dewy-eyes, tears soon rolling down her cheeks and dripping down, "What?" she said, shockingly, her hand covering her mouth with aghast. She rushed to her room, not believing what had been told to her. She stood in front of her bedroom but Grace wasn't there then she ran back to them, allowing them to come in. They had a seat in the living room.

   "Errr, where is her father?" demanded David before starting, clearing his throat, puzzle-faced.

   "He's at work," she replied, sobbingly. 

   "Well..." began David, "... So anything unusual with her or psychological disorder leading her to suicidal thoughts?"

   "Yes, she was alone on her corner like a hermit, all the time seclusion, staying like a strander from us," she explained between her sniffs.

   "How about the school... was she a disturbed girl, bullied by her friends," asked Isla, scribbling down the information.

   "I don't know, she wouldn't even come up with us," she said.

   "Well... ought to go now." declared David, standing up and getting to the car along with Isla.

... 

   "Better take a cup of coffee in that coffee shop," told Isla.

Together they went into the coffee shop, the doorbell ringing. Two cups of coffee, please." ordered David, holding against the shop counter, fidgeting his foot. Soon they had had their cups of coffee, steam streaming out. 

   "Do you think there'll be more murders?" questioned Isla, sipping the hot coffee. 

   "Dunno," replied David frowning, "Maybe."

...