I'll Be Well

Today, I'll be well. That is what I intended yesterday; to be well. I keep trying to master my thoughts and therefore control my body, but I am not sure if that is working. I mean, really, although yesterday I said, "I'll be well.", today, I am not well. And so, here I am, sore throat, slight fever, and cough - and I am not well.

And for some reason, this physical manifestation of sickness, is making me slip. . . slip into grief - and grief is never appetizing to the "Blog of Note" gods. They eat ambrosia, gilded grapes, digital images of the universe and unicorns. And I, I feel ugly and dark and black and bleak and gloomy and rainy and - and i feel silent.

How does this happen, I wonder? One day I'm kisses I'm sunshine I'm clear eyes I'm fresh air I'm a walk in a field of flowers. Where did the rain come from?

Solace comes from knowing that water brings life, but i also know that floods take life - and this rain feels like the prelude to a thunderstorm. I don't swim well.

And so I will warn you, because now i don't mind posting the ugly that trolls my mind, perhaps you may want to skip this excerpt. It is raw, and gruesome - and it is a reflection of me and my nightmare:

The Point (Chapter 1 Excerpt)

Adrienne always enjoyed spending time at Jason and Lynn’s summer home on an island off the coast of Maine. It sat on a wooded cliff the locals referred to as “The Point”. The home was once a bed and breakfast; reminiscent of old Georgian style, the 12 bedroom 6 bathroom home was wrapped by full porches on both the 1^st and 2^nd floor. Adrienne loved its comforting view of the ocean and worn wooden floors that cushioned her bare feet. She wanted to be there. . .

            “I’m sorry, I’m just leaving the office – so I won’t be there until long after you guys have had dinner.”

            “That’s fine. The key will be under the mat, and Adrienne. . . remember to lock the door behind you.”

            Adrienne closed her cell phone and napped as her driver fought the thick Manhattan traffic.

            Under the mat was 1 shiny silver key. Adrienne used it to open the door and stepped inside, trailing her luggage behind. Although she knew the stairs were directly in front of her, she needed to turn on the lights – just to make sure. She turned them back off and crept up the stairs. As she passed Lynn and Jason’s room, the sound of love making was apparent, and she slipped into the room just beyond, stripped, and dove into bed loving the silky feel of the sheets on her skin.

            Thump!

                        Thump! Thump! Thump!

            Adrienne was always a light sleeper, and the thumping noises didn’t fail to wake her from her sweet dream of Dan provoked by Lynn and Jason. Forgetting where she was, for the moment, she stepped out into the hallway nude and approached the top of the stairs. The lights were on below. She stared down onto a nude Jason being stabbed by a blond long-haired man with a straight-razor.

            She panicked and ran back to her room.

            He had a firm grip on Jason. His right forearm crushed Jason’s windpipe as his left hand plunged the straight-razor into Jason’s midsection over and over again. Although Jason would undoubtedly die from his wounds, this technique proved to be ineffectual for what he truly wanted to accomplish. Nude himself, he rubbed his raw cock against Jason’s ass as the stabbing motion pushed Jason back into him. 20 more strokes and he would cum.

            He stood there, after letting Jason’s body drop to the cold wooden floor, and he glared at the top of the stairs knowing there would be more. His hair was fused with the stench of sweat and dirt – more than a days’ worth, and his blue eyes were almost transparent in their icy gaze. His 6’5” frame was taut with dense muscle and his milky skin seemed unblemished. He proceeded stealthily up the stairs toward what was his to take.

            Adrienne quietly closed the door behind her as her eyes jotted around, scanning the room for a decent hiding place. She remembered that the huge armoire in the corner had double deep drawers  at the bottom for comforters. She pulled open the drawer and found it empty. She immediately folded her body into it, catching her right nipple on the edge of the drawer. Once inside, she pushed against the inner frame of the armoire to close the drawer, but a crack remained. She peered out into the darkness of her guest room.

            He climbed into bed with Lynn, his straight-razor still in hand and sticky with Jason’s blood. As Lynn turned to face him, he reached over and slit one side of her jugular vein. His right hand slid under her head and covered her mouth.

            “Hurry, come with me.” He dragged her from the bed and walked her to the room next door. “Open the door.” As she turned the knob, he pushed her inside with a thrust of his hips against her naked skin, his hand still covering her mouth while he stroked one of her bare breasts with his razor.

            Moonlight bathed the room. He knew she would be able to see, and he would show her.

           

He knelt Lynn down, and kneeled down behind her, and, as if one in the same motion, graced her throat with the sharp metal of his razor. Blood pooled at their knees, but before her body could get cold, he pushed her face to the floor and penetrated her still warm rectum with the stiffness of his cock. He came immediately and maneuvered her body in front of the armoire while still inside her, pulling her back up to her knees. He glared at the open drawer with a grin that barely contained that blackest evil and the sin within him. His right hand now held the razor, he used it to curve across Lynn’s collar bone, down her right shoulder, under her arm, down her side, across her abdomen, and up her sternum returning to the point of origin. He withdrew, laid her down, and flayed her where he so masterfully tailored. He paused at her breast, deciding to take the fullness of it along with its skin for now. Her blood, semi-congealed, made for glue as he placed her skin over his. Not a good fit, but it was part of his purpose. Once again, he propped Lynn up in between himself and the armoire. He knew she was terrified. He turned Lynn and his body away from the armoire to face the door. He began stroking her face with his hands and kissing her neck. He wanted to love her.

            Adrienne needed to run, now. As he turned away from her, she carefully began pulling against the inner frame of the armoire to open the drawer. Once the drawer was fully open, she let her body spill out. She lay there for some seconds, fearing that he would notice her. She knew that he knew she was there. Why else would he have faced her, grin at her, taunt her the way he did? She jumped to her feet, bolted down the hall, tripped down the stairs, and ran out the door into the silent moonlit night without a thing.

            Her feet pounded the private dirt road leading down into the outskirts of the town below. She sprinted, nearly out of breath, but not knowing how to stop. She saw the nearest home to the old B & B, she recognized the warm glow of a lamp lighting a room on the 2^nd floor. She slowed and did a quick survey of the grounds around her, her fingers pressed against the white picket fences’ gate and she tip-toed up the path to the door, tightly hugging her breasts along the way.

            Ding Dong!

                        Ding Dong!

            She waited.

            She heard the creaking of wooden boards coming toward the door.

            “Who is it!” A very annoyed and cracked voice yelled from beyond the door.

                        “Please help me,” a whispered plea rose from her and the door opened.

            “What. . . What’s happened? Are you. . .were you. . .”

            They stood, staring at each other for what seemed to be an eternity. His gray fluff of hair caught a night breeze and gently billowed and swayed on top of his head. His fingers fumbled to get his glasses to his face and returned to his waist to tend to the robe he carelessly left open. His frame was thin and frail, yet his manner was distinguished and assuring in some odd sense to her.

            Her legs had been scratched by various roadside brush and her hair was wild, mimicking a flame tossed by wind. She was so small, her petite frame could be no more than 5’5” at 90 pounds. Her lips were full, and invited one to kiss them. Her eyes were fuller, with fear, and pleaded for rescue.

            She hugged him, pressing her breasts against his chest as she leaned up toward him tickling her face with his mustache. “Thank you.”

            He led her inside and took the chenille throw from the sofa and wrapped her in it. He picked up the phone and dialed the island’s police station as he went upstairs to bring down some clothes for her.

            “I have a naked young woman in my house. Oh, come on Charlie, this is no joke. She’s here, and she’s scared half to death. I think she’s the one that visits the Foster’s every summer.” He pulled a gray jogging suit from a winter chest in his bedroom and came back downstairs.

            “Here you are. What is your name miss? What happened?”

            She took the jogging suit from him and got dressed. “I’m Adrienne Tell, and they’re dead. The Fosters are dead.” The trebling in her voice didn’t register to her, but she noticed the tremors rippling through her body.

            “She says her name is Adrienne Tell and that the Fosters are dead. I think she’s in shock, better bring the paramedics.”

            Adrienne walked toward the door and slipped on an old pair of flip-flops in the corner, “I can’t stay here.” She opened the door and ran out into the night toward safety.

            “Wait! She just left! I don’t know why. . .This is not some prank call and I am not some old guy with Alzheimer’s. You need to find her.” He put the phone back in its cradle, walked to the door, locked it, and turned out the lights.

            She made her way to the small island’s police station  in the heart of town. Her legs ached and her feet were sore, but she could make it. It’s what she should do.

            “A crazy man killed my friends,” puffs of her breath forced hair from her face.

           

“Are you the one Mr. Wilkes called about?” The officer quickly scanned Adrienne’s body, looking slightly puzzled.

            “He gave me clothes. Are you planning to go there! Are you planning on catching that motherfucker?” Her body gave in  to collapse. Her knees hit the floor and she palmed her face in release, sobbing uncontrollably.

            “Miss, the chief himself went to The Point. Said it’s a blood bath. Have a seat and I’ll take your statement.” He went over to her and gently picked her up from her cradled position in front of his desk. “Charlie, I’m going to take her in the holding room for some privacy. Can you bring us some coffee?”

            “Sure Mike.”

            They sat at a gray metal table in a small room just off from the station’s entrance. The room seemed too brightly lit and it smelled like a stale loaf of wheat bread. Her chest heaved as she cried a full body all-consuming cry that spoke of both grief and terror.

            “I’m going to record this, if you don’t mind. You’re not a suspect, but you do have the right to have an attorney present.”

            “It’s okay,” she muttered through the tears, “I’m okay.”

           

Mike got up and stepped out of the room to switch on the recording control panel, “We have audio and visual.” He sat down beside her, “Now, for the record, please state your name and how you know the Fosters.”

            “Here you go Mike, 2 cups of joe.” Charlie placed the coffee in front of Mike.

                        “Thanks Charlie.”

            “No problem.” Charlie closed the door behind him as he walked back to his desk.

           

Adrienne took a few sips of the fresh coffee and cleared her throat, “My name is Adrienne Tell and I am a good friend of the Fosters’. . . I was a good friend of theirs.” Her body broke again, and she cried steadily until she could no longer catch her breath. “Lynn and I both worked for the same brokerage house as Account Executives for Investment Banking in New York.”

            Mike held the paper cup between his hands and looked her squarely in the eye, “I’m going to ask you some questions. Do you think you’ll be able to answer them?”

            “Yes.”

            “First, I would like you to tell me what you know. What exactly happened tonight?”

            “I was supposed to be here in time to have dinner with Lynn and Jason, but I had to take care of some things at the office, so I didn’t get to their doorstep until about 11:00 PM. I drove a car I rented on mainland and had it ferried over – special delivery by Fred, who owed me a favor. I’m sure you know, the ferry stops running at 9:30 PM. Anyway, Lynn left the key under the mat for me, so I unlocked the door and took my bag upstairs. . . She told me to make sure that I locked the door behind me when I called to let her know I’d be late. . .” Adrienne looked as though she was trying to recall the most painful memory she had ever had.

            “Did you?”

            “I. . .I. . .” Adrienne again burst into tears, “I don’t think so. I just have this whole other mentality when I get here, I just thought. . . this is the only safe place I know.” Adrienne wiped the tears and the snot from her face.

            “What then?”

            “I went upstairs and I heard them making love, so I didn’t bother to interrupt. I just went to my room, got undressed, and went to bed. About an hour or so later, I heard a thumping noise and my instincts led me to the top of the stairs where I saw Jason being stabbed by a man holding a straight-razor.”

            Mike put the paper cup to his lips and slowly sipped his coffee, “What did this man look like?” He moved the coffee to the side and eyed Adrienne, looking to detect the slightest ounce of bullshit.

            “He was taller than Jason by about 2 inches. He had a milky white complexion and straw blond hair that came to his shoulders. He had the iciest blue eyes I’ve ever seen and his body didn’t seem to have any fat. He had a look in his eyes, insanity. His teeth were bright white and his hands were well manicured. I think he’s left handed.”

            “That’s a pretty good description. Did you get close to him?” Mike looked down at his hands lying on the table.

“After I saw him stabbing Jason with that straight-razor, I ran back to my room to hide. I got in the bottom drawer of the armoire in the bedroom and closed it as best I could. I stared out from the crack I left for what seemed like an hour, but it was probably more like 15 minutes. He came in holding the razor; he was slowly running it across her nipple.” Adrienne reached to finish her coffee, “They both kneeled to the floor in front of the armoire – he stared at the crack in the drawer the whole time – he slit her throat and laid her down – he raped her and then he propped her back up and cut a vest shaped piece of skin from her chest.” Adrienne spoke as though she were the narrator of a story. Although she looked directly at Mike, her eyes seemed blank. Her hands were perched on the paper cup in front of her and remained motionless. Her body was rigid and seemed to be a part of the metal chair she sat on. “He put her skin over his, like it was a fitting of some sort. They turned away, toward the door, and he started to rub her face with his hands and lick her neck. That’s when I ran for it, all the way to Mr. Wilkes’ house, and then here.”

Mike looked up at Adrienne, “Did anything else happen? Were you touched at all?” His fingers tapped the desk lightly.

“No, I was nude because that’s how I sleep. I felt like he was playing some game with me. He knew I was in that drawer. He knew I was watching. He didn’t even flinch when I ran past him.”

“Did he look familiar to you?”

“No, not at all. I think he was some sick freak who wanted an audience.”

“What about the Foster’s? Do you think he may have known them?”

“I don’t know, but we have – had – the same circles of friends, and I don’t remember ever seeing him.”

“Do you know if they had any enemies?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Try to remember anything else that might help us catch this guy. I’ll be right back.” Mike stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

The station was silent, besides the faint sound of papers being shuffled on a desk. A strong aroma of coffee wafted through the air and served as a wakeup call for anyone crossing its path. Overhead, florescent lights beamed unrelenting sheets of brightness on the stark sharp surfaces of the interior. It was a sterile and dull place at an hour like this, far from the lively debates swirling amid the hallways experienced at more decent hours of the day. No, now was the stations quiet time – usually a 2 man crew – tonight complimented by the Chief and Deputy, out investigating their first “Blood Bath.”

As they pulled up to the house, they noticed that the front door was open, exposing what appeared to be a body lying on the floor illuminated by a table light at the right entryway. Chief Wallace and Deputy Richards stepped up to the front door with guns in one hand and flashlights in the other.

“We’ll sweep the inside first, get a body count, sweep the grounds, get the kit and collect evidence. Where’s that damn Mueller?” As the chief took an abrupt look back down the sloping curved dirt drive, he recognized the headlights of the coroner.

“Guess it took him a while to wipe the sand out of his eyes,” Deputy Richards’ grin and wit was an all too obvious extension of the excitement he felt brewing in him.

Chief Wallace shot Richards a look of disgust and disappointment, “Don’t come prancing into this crime scene like no one died, for Christ’s sake, I knew these people Tom. Moreover, I liked them.”

“Meant no disrespect Chief.” They waited silently for Bob Mueller to walk up the steps and meet them at the front door.

“What a shame fellas, what a shame,” Bob looked down at Jason’s lifeless body, cradling his camera in his right arm, “Well, let’s go have a look.”

“May as well go get the kit now.” Deputy Richards re-holstered his gun and flashlight and went down to the patrol car and came back with a small black case.

Bob bent down and checked Jason’s pulse, “Well, it’s official – He’s dead.” The flash of the digital camera increased the brightness radiated from the small lamp on the entry table. Bob stepped over Jason to face him. “There’s some bruising around his neck and stab wounds in his abdomen. I’m betting the stab wounds are the cause of death. Look at the splatter and ooze pattern.” As Bob kneeled and gently rocked Jason’s body back, a slightly sticky sound released into the air.

Deputy Richards stepped inside the home and opened the evidence kit  on the console table behind the couch facing the stone fireplace. He removed a small airy yet bushy brush and a thin case filled with an ashy white powder. He walked back over to the door that Chief Wallace was inspecting, “No sign of forced entry.”

“Well, let’s see if we can get some prints,” Richards bent to be eye level with the doorknob and the lock mechanism. He dipped the brush into the powder and began fanning the front door knob and the door’s window panes as Chief Wallace inspected the immediate porch area with his flashlight.

The coroner ran the lens of the camera from head to toe of Jason’s body, taking 28 pictures in total.

“I’m not getting anything Chief.” Deputy Richards blew dust off of one of the panes of glass in the front door. Chief Wallace walked down the porch, back to the front door, “Well, we’ll take a look around.” The 3 men scoured the first floor, front to back, left to right. The home was furnished comfortably in French country style. The living room held well cushioned loveseats and oversized arm chairs. The footfalls of the 3 men echoed from the oak hardwood floors, occasionally softened by one of the numerous intricately designed throw rugs. The oversized, true divided light windows were minimally decorated with shear window treatments, allowing for clear views of the surrounding wooded area and the waterway below the cliff on which the house sat. The full moon and star filled sky lit the landscape in soft shades of pale white light, almost eliminating the need for the house lights, however, as the Chief, Deputy, and Coroner walked the first floor of the Fosters’ home, they turned on every light they came across.  As they rounded the corner, ending up in front of the staircase, steps away from where they began, Coroner Mueller let out a faint sigh, “I guess she’s upstairs.”

The age of the home  seemed to be reflected in the number of groans and creaks expelled from the staircase. Deputy Richards lagged behind, dusting the banister for prints he would never find, and inching the kit up the stairs alongside him. Chief Wallace flashed light on the switch up at the top of the stairs and flicked it on. The tendrils of blood leading from one doorway to the next immediately caught all their eyes. Chief Wallace pushed open the 1^st door on the right with his flashlight and followed the drops of blood to the bed, where he found a small pool of blood on one of the pillows. Deputy Richards turned on the bedside lamp opposite Chief Wallace. “The body must be in the other room. . .” Deputy Richards walked to the next bedroom without thought for his safety or defiling the crime scene. The Chief and the Coroner rushed to the room next door where they found the Deputy in a stupor a few steps inside the guestroom. Coroner Mueller turned on the overhead light, but what they had come into the room to find had already been revealed by moonlight. They stared down at Lynn’s nude body smeared in what seemed to be a combination of blood and feces.

“Oh my. . .,” Bob Mueller snapped pictures of Lynn’s backside and stepped around the body in between it and the armoire - with its bottom drawer open and a large outpour of Lynn’s blood encroaching in on one of its legs, “Oh, oh my God.” The flash of the digital camera stopped and Bob covered his eyes with his right hand, “Oh my God, he butchered her.” Chief Wallace walked over to Bob and examined the front of Lynn’s body. Lynn’s face was pale and angelic, a stark contrast to her mutilated chest missing one breast and having the other breast hanging from her chest by slivers of skin. Streaks of feces and blood covered her legs, arms, back, hands, and feet. He wanted her to feel loved.

“Black light it.” Wallace gave Richards a cold steely look. Richards turned off all the lights illuminating the room and the hallway outside after retrieving a small flashlight from his kit. Once the blacklight hit the body, Chief Wallace’s suspicion was obvious. Semen covered Lynn from head to toe, along with the other bodily fluids found. The light also made plain semen left in the open armoire drawer. “Look through their papers, we need to start calling their family.” Wallace went back downstairs and walked out into the moonlight.

            He stood there, with shadowy ghosts of emotion and actions to be, taking shape in his head. He thought of his first encounter with the Fosters. They were in town shopping at the market and introducing themselves to a friendly face they recognized as a distant neighbor, Mr. Wilkes, when he rounded the corner after securing some beers for his impending fishing trip. Carl Wilkes then stretched his hand out, laid it on his shoulder, and said, “. . .and here’s the man that protects us while we’re sleeping; hasn’t let us down yet.” Carl’s smile was contagious and invited them all into grins. “Yep, there’s nothing like being the Chief. I’m Chief of Police, Sam Wallace, everyone here just calls me Chief.”

“Nice to meet you, Chief.” Jason’s grip on his hand was strong and assured, “We just moved into town.”

Carl interrupted, “They’re staying at the old B&B at The Point – just past my place.”

“Real nice place, put up some relatives there myself once. Where do you call home?”

“We’re from New York, actually we’ll be heading back there once Summer is done.” Lynn smiled and pointed toward Jason, “If it were up to him, we’d stay here all year long, but I’d rather not wear out a special place like this.” Jason grabbed her hand and held it delicately.

“It would be a pleasure if the two of you – and your spouses – had dinner with us tonight. It would be a great opportunity for us to learn more about the town.” Jason pointed into their shopping cart, “We’re having lobsters and T-bone steaks. . .”

“Well, if the Mrs. is up to it.” Sam looked at Carl while answering.

“I don’t have a Mrs., but I’ll be there just the same..” Carl held out his hand for another hearty handshake from Jason, “See you folks at supper.”

“Of course, 6 o’clock. Bye.” Lynn looked at Jason and then watched as Carl exited the market and walked down the road to run more errands in town.

“I’ll be on my way. See you in the PM.” Sam walked over to the cashier and paid for the beer.

Later that day, in the kitchen of the Foster’s home, Carl Wilkes, Sam Wallace, and Patricia Wallace gathered with their hosts to enjoy a meal that was a decidedly Maine/New York fusion of tastes. Despite the unusually oppressive heat, it was comfortably cool in the old B&B. As many of the locals knew, the Foster’s had put a considerable amount of work into the structure before the start of the season. There were many out of town contractors who came, and some locals used. They gutted the place, already worth well over half a million dollars, and installed things like central air, marble countertops, whirlpool tubs, and designer furniture – and there was still landscaping to be done. These people had money, and lots of it; Sam knew the island could use the transfusion of new money, so despite traditional feelings towards outsiders he held so dear – he knew a warm welcome was in order.

They laughed and ate as though they were old friends, “. . .Then Charlie turned to me and said, ‘Hey, Sam. . .do you think my head could’ve fit in that balling ball shiner?’ and I looked at him and said, ‘I don’t know, what size do you think your head is – peanut?’ It was the funniest call we’d ever got.” Sam looked down as he cleared his throat of the piece of T-bone steak he’d nearly choked on.

“You always tell that story, and it still isn’t funny.” Patricia Wallace looked over at her husband, knowing that her comment would make him red in the face, she grinned triumphantly.

“And you always know that you’re saying so is not going to stop me from telling it,” Sam picked up the glass of Port Lynn so graciously poured for him, “but I still love you.” They both had a great chuckle and glanced at their hosts. “Hey, Charlie, how long have you been living out here alone?”

Charlie looked away from Jason, whom he was about to engage in conversation, “About 6 years or so; been that long since they’ve closed the B&B. . .No one else around here, you know. . .” Charlie looked at Lynn and Jason, “hope you don’t get lonesome.”

“Actually, we plan on having guests over for the season.” Lynn daintily placed a piece of steak in her mouth.

“Are they as friendly as you?”

“Or as hospitable?” Patricia added to Sam’s inquiry.

“Can’t say for sure.” Jason gave Lynn an odd and uneasy look.

“Don’t make our guests think we have rouges for friends.”

“No, just ‘she-demons’.”

“Jason, don’t. . .”

“It’s alright, some of my friends aren’t fit company either.” Charlie smiled and searched the room for a renewed air of levity.

It was a night meant for gathering on porches with beers and chatting it up, and it turned out, that Sam actually began to develop an affinity for the Fosters’.

Sam walked over to his truck and radioed in to the station, “Charlie, we have a real blood bath here. . .Richards and I are going to run over to Charlie’s and interview him in a bit. We should be back within an hour, I’m going to need to come in and notify the family.”

“How bad is it, Chief?” Charlie’s voice held a sober quality.

“It’s real bad.” Sam looked up to see Deputy Richards and Coroner Mueller coming down from the porch, “Richards, we’re going to head over to Carl Wilkes to get a statement. The next shift will have to examine the grounds in the AM. Mueller, got what you need?”

Bob shot a question mark at Sam, “So, you’re not gonna help me bag the bodies?” Bob knew the answer before it came.

“We have to get going. You might want to call up your assistant, Alex – he really should have been here from the start.” Sam was not inclined to bag bodies, especially not those bodies. He felt an air of queasiness wrench his stomach and intestines. “Come on Richards.”

Deputy Richards and Chief Wallace boarded the truck and drove down the winding path.

Coroner Mueller went back into the house and called his assistant Alex Lammelle, “Alex. . .Alex, it’s me, Bob. We got a case. Yeah, yeah, yeah. . .get up!” Bob had a good idea of what Alex had been doing on this hot and sticky night –back. . .Over at The Point – Lynn & Jason Foster-. Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Wow! . . .so, what do you think?” Richards looked at Wallace expecting more answers and wisdom than he could ever give.

“I don’t know, but our witness should be able to shed some light on this.” Sam turned in to Carl Wilkes driveway and shut off the motor. “Maybe Carl will have something for us too. . .” The Chief and Deputy walked around the front of the house and rang the bell. Carl Wilkes opened the door as soon as Chief Wallace’s finger released the doorbell.

“It’s about time someone got here.” Carl looked wild-eyed and disjointed. “what happened up there?” Carl motioned for Sam and Tom to follow him into the kitchen. “I was just about to make some coffee, you fellas up for some?” Carl pointed the coffee pot at them.

“Sure Carl, we’ll have some.” Chief Wallace pulled a pad and pen from his back pocket and sat down at the table. Deputy Richards followed suit.

Once the coffee was made, the 3 men got down to business. “Tell us what happened, start from the beginning.” Chief Wallace jotted detailed notes of Carl Wilkes accounting of the night. How he found Adrienne at his door naked, how he immediately called the station, and then went upstairs to get her clothes, and finally, how she left without warning.

“And that was it?” Chief Wallace carefully placed his pen on top of his pad.

“That was it? Wasn’t that enough!” Carl Wilkes almost shot out of his chair.

“I, meant, you didn’t see or hear anything else? Maybe earlier in the day? . . .something odd or unusual?” Sam watched as Carl put his hand to his face, covering his eyes, and leaned in toward the kitchen table.

“The only thing I saw before that was a dark car driving up the road at about 10:45 PM or so. Other than that, I can’t say. . . maybe. . . maybe I heard something. . .wait. . .” Carl looked up and tried to conjure the sights and sounds of the past 7 hours. “I was in my bedroom reading – started at about 7:30 PM, after dinner – I had the window open – air conditioner’s broken – and I took a break here and there. I think around 9:30 PM – yes – I heard someone swimming, the breeze carried it right through my window, and I thought – how odd, people don’t come around here to swim – shore’s too rocky and if it hadn’t been for the moonlight, it’d be pitch black out.” Carl looked out from his haze at Sam, “Do you think? . . .or maybe the car? . . .I don’t know. . .” Carl looked bewildered and hurt.

“Anything’s possible. We can’t rule out anything at this point.” Sam put his hand on Carl’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze, “Just know that we’ll catch and punish whoever did this.”

Deputy Richards closed his note pad and finished his coffee, disappearing into the background images of the kitchen as Sam and Carl shared a moment of silence that made Tom feel awkward.

“O.K., so, you’ve thought it over. Is there anything else?” Officer Mike Crawley handed Adrienne a glass of water.

“No, nothing. . .” Adrienne took the glass and sipped slowly as though she were bidding her time, waiting for more, waiting for the other shoe to fall. She felt as though she had gone without sleep for days, and yet her mind kept racing on with thoughts of how Jason never really liked her, and how she and Lynn met. Those were happier times, those were more normal times. Some of her thoughts were of him. How he looked at her while he slid his razor down Lynn’s body. He was mad, he was mad and he knew her, worst of all, he was mad and she had a feeling deep down inside that she knew him. A faint glint in his eye reminded her of her dear dead father.

“You kept me waiting. You really ought to be fired.” Bob’s eyes raced with Alex up the porch steps as his mouth made an awful grimace.

“Come on old man, you’ve had a warm body in your bed on a hot night, haven’t you?” Alex smiled an easy smile not common among Maine folk. He had 2 body bags slung over his shoulder and 2 pairs of latex and 2 pairs of burlap gloves in his free hand. “Come on old timer, take the gloves.” Bob put the latex gloves on as Alex laid both body bags next to Jason, “Man, who did he piss off?” Bob shrugged at Alex and bent down beside Jason’s body as Alex snapped his latex gloves on.

They moved gingerly in concert with each other, Alex handling the upper body and Bob handling the lower body. Bob never saw such brutality up close, this was the kind of Godless act reserved for TV. and movies. He wasn’t sure how he would manage when they got to the woman.

Alex seemed to be unphased by it all, probably due to the fact that he was born and raised in Chicago. Desensitized since birth, Bob thought. How Alex wound up here, Bob still didn’t know.

“Umph!” A loud thump accompanied the puff of air released from Bob’s body as he and Alex loaded their truck with Jason’s remains. They left the truck open and turned to march up to Lynn Foster’s corpse. When Alex reached Lynn, something caught in his soul. The sight triggered a sense of reality he had lost full contact with, “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Alex’s mouth gapped open and he knew that the evil existing in the world was tangible. After the initial shock began to wear off, Alex removed his burlap gloves revealing the latex gloves underneath, and he opened the second body bag slowly. He then carefully placed Lynn’s body in it by himself. Bob Mueller watched, and thought that he had never seen such an act of loving-kindness from a person who seemed to be indifferent to the world daily.

Once the bodies were loaded, Alex and Bob rode off to their office to start dissecting the mess.

He couldn’t believe he’d done it! Exactly as he planned it, exactly as his heart and cock ached for it, exactly the way it should have been. After all of that waiting, and all of that watching, he did it! The blood rushed through his body like a raging scolding river etching ravines in his flesh.

After swimming up the shoreline, he crested on the sharded beach and stealthily crept among the trees and shrubs and nettles and mosquitoes and mile high climbing vines. He found himself staring into the home of Jason and Lynn Foster 30 minutes later.

His eyes gleaned as he watched the two in their late Friday routine. His view was of the entryway and sitting room. The kitchen faced the shore which swept down from the cliff – The Point. Jason and Lynn were playing a friendly game of solitaire when Lynn got up and went to the kitchen. When she returned, there was a big wooden spoon in her hand. She sat in the armchair she previously occupied and attempted to pick up her cards, that was when she realized she had brought back the spoon she used to stir the pasta – and she let out an abrupt, shrill giggle of embarrassment. Jason looked at her, smiled, and shook his head at his silly wife.

Moments later, they both went into the kitchen. Jason sat down at the antique wooden farm table and waited for his wife to serve him. Lynn placed a steaming plate of pasta with a creamy sauce in front of him and poured an oversized glass of white wine for him. Lynn then served herself and sat at the opposite end of the long wooden table. Of this scene, he could only see Jason, as the kitchen wall blocked the other end of the table which was placed between the kitchen and a picture window with a stunning view of the ocean. He was disappointed, not to have her in his view. Seconds and laughs rolled by between Lynn and Jason when Lynn unexpectedly moved her place setting beside that of her husband and sat next to him, laughing and stroking his thigh.

As he watched them in silence and subtle, gentle breath, odd and random unattached thoughts ran through him. How fine it must be to be normal. That must be what it’s like not to be broken inside. What do you do in a house, in the morning, when you wake up in it?[1][1] I don’t understand. . .who am I? Is this how normal people behave? Is this what normal people do? How long could I pretend to be normal? How long have I pretended? Is that what it’s like to love someone? Is that what people in love do? Is that how people in love act? They must be about to fuck. Do they fuck? No, they must make love, fucking is the only term broken people use for it. Fucking, and only fucking, is all broken people know about that act. What is it like not to nightmare? What is it like not to be tortured? What is it like to have someone acknowledge your torture – to evidence it – to be a witness to it – to be a protector against it? What is it like?

He stood there in a daze, wondering, thinking, remembering, as they went on with their night enjoying their lives. As he continued to dwell within himself, Jason and Lynn finished dinner and sat down to read for the night. Lynn curled up in her arm chair with a novel and a glass of iced tea. Jason unfolded the New York Times and sipped a fresh cup of coffee, crossing his legs and leaning back in his worn leather lounger.

Once he became aware of his purpose again, he slinked up the front stairs with the full length of his body skimming the surface of the oak boards. He huddled by the exterior southern wall with white washed clapboards and made his way toward the window left of the fireplace directly in front of the couple. He slowly raised his head above the window’s sill. He knew that he only had a few millimeters before he caught their attention. He saw them, sitting in silence, each engulfed by their respective texts. He submerged himself, once again, into the darkness, allowing himself to take a breath and lean his body against the old B&B. He listened intently for any conversation between the two, but there was none for a while, and then he heard what he’d been waiting to hear – confirmation of her arrival.

“Did you give Fred the tip for bringing Adrienne over tonight?” Lynn did not look up as she spoke, her eyes continued along the line of text that she was reading.

Goodbye for now.

Tomorrow, Afraid To Talk. . .

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[1] Movie: Eye of the Beholder w/Ashley Judd & Ewan McGregor