Prologue

Ivan comes back in search of his mother's murderer and in his quest, he stumbles on a wild rose and is smitten.

The phone rang several times but Patrice refused to answer it. It was her birthday today and she, her husband, Ben and Ivan their only son had come to town to have dinner. She was Thirty four years old now. It wouldn't stop ringing. Darling, just answer it. Bernard admonished his wife. I guess I should. She complained as she reached into her bag for her phone. She couldn't recognize the number. Who could this be? I don’t like answering strange calls. She told Bernard who was busily afflicting the chicken breast on his plate. Unlike his wife, Ben was a chicken lover, he would eat anything made of chicken, from sauce, salad, pie to soup. Patrice was very conscious of her weight, she had been thinner than now, she was still fighting to shed off the baby weight since Ivan was born or at least stay that way. She hesitated, then answered the call. Hello! This is Patrice Glover, who am I speaking to? She blurted out. This is the county gas service station. We had an alert from your neighbor that there has been a gas leak at your residence. A service team has been sent to your residence to salvage the situation, but the door was locked when they arrived. We will need you to go home right now and allow them access to your house. Thank you. Then the line went dead before she could say another word. What’s it honey? Ben questioned his wife who seemed confused. There was a gas leak at home so I need to go check it out. But I don’t remember leaving the gas on. Let me go check it out. Ben offered, laying down his cutlery.  Would be mean to put the birthday girl through the stress, besides you barely touched your plate. Ben said, then winked at his wife. No, I’ll just rush home and come back, I think I should take the opportunity to change my dress. She had been complaining since they got to the restaurant. She wore a long red gown Bernard bought for her the very morning as her birthday present. It was cinched in at the waist and it made her uncomfortable. She picked up her bag, planted a kiss on Ben lips then another on Ivan’s forehead and left. She took the car. To her utmost surprise, when she got home, there was no vehicle parked outside or anybody waiting for her. She unlocked the door, went inside the house and turned on the light. There wasn't any sign of a gas leak. What’s going on? Well, maybe they got the wrong address. She murmured to herself. She dropped her bag in the sofa and went upstairs to her room to change her dress. Before she could unzip her dress she heard the main door open and shut. Who’s there? She called out as she rushed downstairs. Ben? Ivan! Are you guys home? There was no answer. The house was as quiet as a cemetery. Is this some prank or a birthday surprise or what? She laughed nervously. She heard something move behind her and turned. There was nobody there. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She heard footsteps behind her, then the light went off. She didn't move. The room was dead quiet, all she could hear was her own heartbeat. What do you want from me? She whispered. Still no answer. I know you are there. What do you want from me? She said again, now a bit audible. She seemed to be finding her voice again. Your family! Said a thin piercing voice from behind her. She knew this voice too well to not recognize it. She had heard it too many times to not know it. It’s you! She said, a bit at ease. It was someone she had known for a very long time, someone she trusted. Is this some birthday prank? She giggled. You got me you know, but it’s a bit too much for a birthday surprise. Why don’t we turn on the light for a start? She managed to say. But of course, we should. The voice said sarcastically. Then the light came on. They stared at each other. The other was holding a machete. What are you doing with that? Patrice asked anxiously. The other started walking towards her, the right hand gripping the handle of the machete and the left hand slowing tracing the edge of the blade. The blade shone in the light from the chandelier. It looked sharp. This is not funny you know. I left the boys at the restaurant and I need to get back soon. The phone started ringing. Don’t pick it. The other said.  That must be them calling of course I have to pick it. She said and turned towards the bag. Don’t move! Then the house telephone started ringing too. They both stood facing each other for a while. The phones kept ringing. They both looked from the bag to the telephone on the desk. Patrice turned and run towards the desk to get the phone, the other lunged towards her and slashed her hand with the machete, then continued hacking her. Patrice screamed as the machete cut her from all angles. One mighty swing and her throat slit open, a stream of blood gushed out. She was still as a piece of log, her blue eyes froze, wide open looking nowhere. It became quiet at once. The machete fell with a thud. The back door flung open, the footsteps faded as the assailant fled farther into the dark.

Ben and his son stopped a cab and headed home. When the two got home, there were police vehicles all over the place. People had gathered in front of the house and there was an ambulance. The police were already inside the house. Mr. Thomas Simpson, the sheriff beckoned them to come inside. Ben couldn't believe his eyes. One minute he’s with his wife and now she lying on the floor in their own house butchered to death. Ivan passed out upon seeing his mother’s body lying in a pool of her own blood. Ben fell on his knees and reached out his hand to touch hers. Patrice! Honey! Am calling you dear. Say something...come to me! You kept so long, let’s go now. Please…