First Comes LoveA Story by Cherrie intro She had listened to their sickening baby talk that lover’s do; need you, miss you, love you… Ever since her miscarriage, Shawn had stopped looking at her. She hadn’t realized his need for her was dead, not till that very moment there in the park. Shawn had stopped watching her, watching Jo dress or undress, do yoga, dry her hair. Here in the dark, she watched how he watched Sandy. Drawing blood while biting her lip as desire fueled their kiss she took in the moment. That spark of rage set her in motion. Tears stung her eyes, but she couldn’t look away, traveling hands only added to her pain. Jo sported a cheater bar in her right hand and a knife in her left. She advanced. Shawn never knew what hit him, but Sandy knew, the tart, who claimed to be her friend, her best friend. This fact pleased Jo as she watched Sandy’s life slip away. A ragging headache and the smell of antiseptics ended her memory, she blinked in rapid succession. As the looming figure took shape, and Deputy Jenkins came into view. “You gave us a scare passing out that way.” Jo spit out a slurred, “what?” “You passed out... back at your house. You were trying to make it to your chair, and went down like a ton of bricks,” he pointed at his temple, “you fought the table, and the table won. We’ve been here for about thirty minutes, give or take...” Officer Mike Jenkins said in a monologed voice and stone-faced. “… the house.” “Yes, ma’am.” “...the rose, I saw her rose.” Jo blinked trying to sweep out cobwebs. Her eyes flashed wide as she realized what she had said. “You’ve been muttering about a rose off and on the whole time, I guess you meant the rose garden, but I couldn’t make heads or tails, of it.” “Wasn’t there two of you?” trying to change the subject, but her thoughts returned to the blood-splattered rose perched on her end-table. She wondered how the two officers had missed it. “Yes ma’am, Officer Murphy had to return to the rose garden to meet the Watch Commander and Detective Thomas. I followed the ambulance here, as soon as I get the okay, I’ll take you back home. I’ll try and wrap-up my questions so you can get some rest before the detective swings by later today.” “Thank you... Officer… can I ask you a question? Did anyone ever find poor Sandy?” “No, not yet, but we are looking for her, we found her ID and her car. So, we know she was there. Your husband, however, did not have a vehicle anywhere in the park, and his keys were on his person...” “...and my husband is?” She asked in a timid voice. D****t to hell, her mind screamed, his keys I forgot about his keys. “I’m sorry ma’am, we tried to tell you earlier tonight, he was murdered. Mrs. Taylor, do you have any idea who attacked him?” “I don’t know. I’m not sure.” Silence hung in the room. “Well, maybe. Around three weeks ago, I felt like he was having an affair, just a feeling you know. After eleven years of marriage, you get to know a man.” “Yes, ma’am I guess you do,” Stone-face said. “...but I had no idea he was meeting Sandy; She and I are best friends. I mean, we were best friends. We all met in college, we rushed together joining the Delta-House.” “Go on.” “A month ago, she kicked out Bob Goodman, the bum, her twice removed boyfriend and started seeing someone new. I always could tell when there was a new man in her life. New hairdo, you know? ... anyway, I’m shocked, and a little sickened to find out the new guy… was.... my Shawn,” Jo scratched the scar on her index finger, and lowered her eyes as she continued, “I never thought either one of them would hurt me that way, or that it would end like this. Sandy and I were like sisters.” “Ma’am the possible suspect?” “Sorry... I think it might be Bob, her ex. A real piece of work, he’s plenty smart, but never would keep a job. No time for working spent all his time watching Sandy. He’s been on her heels since high school… crazy jealous, following her around like a super-spy,” Jo said through a strained tear. “You might check that angle, he stays at the Plaza, with his brother.” .. and find Shaw n’s truck, complete, with the lover’s basket, she thought victoriously. Josephine masked her satisfaction as she visualized that moment. “It’s a strong possibility Bob followed them to the park; He and Shawn never did get along.” “How so?” “Well, they did get in a fit fight a few years back. Shawn always said Bob was the type to jump a man from behind.” “Could be, he did just that, I’ll look into it.” “Do you think he’s taken her?” Jo did her best to look frightened and worried, but she was no actress, and could not rate her performance, not against Mike Jenkin’s poker face. “At this point, we haven’t ruled anything out,” he paused to breathe, “the truth is it’s possible Sandy killed Shawn and is now on the run.” “Oh my...” She blinked hard… “I never considered that, no… not that... not at all.” Dead men... well… dead cheaters… tell no tales, Jo thought. Then she added, “he must have used his spare.” Jenkins’ stone face vanished as he looked confused, “Ma’am?” “I’m sorry. I was thinking about Shaw n’s keys. There’s always a spare in the ashtray, if someone took the truck, I’m sure they used his spare.” “I see.” She watched him write for several minutes and wondered what he could be writing from such a simple statement? Officer Jenkins studied Jo. She sent mixed signals. Genuine shock overwhelmed the woman when they gave her the news at the front door, but somehow her timing seemed off. That moment of shock also out of step. Her reactions were not what he expected, but they seldom were. Plus, just now, when speaking, she looked up and to the right, a true tale of a liar. The Runner Bob Goodman dropped his can of ‘Pabst’ in a cold sweat he leaped off the sofa. His high school sweetheart was missing, Bob jumped into jeans, and boots, he lifted the keys to ‘The Judge’ and slammed the apartment door. Beverly called looking for Sandy, begging Bob to say her only baby girl was there with him. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen her in days, Mrs. Evans, I got ‘a go,” is all Bob said and flipped his phone shut. Cops or no cops, he would find her. He took the steps two at a time, then planted his arm on the rail, and hiked over the last four. Bob always thought they would get back together. He and Sandy had been off-again, on-again, since the tenth grade. He sprinted around the corner to the parking lot running toward his parking space where the ‘slick-purple-candy’ Pontic waited. It was his graduation present that came in a dozen pieces, every inch a memory of their early days together. How many days had she sunbathed as he tinkered with that car? His mind drifted back to the last time they spoke, terrible things were said, not his finest hour. The memory vanished, parked next to his car was Shaw n’s old Chevy. His heart raced, and the air felt thin. This was not right. He eased up to the window. On the passenger’s side a basket, immediately he spotted his leather gloves, a blood-soaked linen napkin. He moved in closer to see a cheater bar in the floorboard, with what looked like dried blood on one end. His lungs could not draw in air; inflamed panic raced up his left arm exploding around his heart. A shaking hand opened the pillbox on his keychain. Bob popped alprazolam under his tongue, hopped behind the steering wheel turned on his police scanner just in time to hear his address being relayed to Charlie 20. A full-blown panic attack swept over him as the 409 screamed, wide-whites squalled laying black down, the GTO blurred thru the wall of smoke, and Bob raced into the night. The drive home The deputy drove Jo home; they talked most of the way back. Still, he could not get a good read from her. He stopped his unit at the curb. “I have one more question. You did not seem shocked when we told you we found your husband there, why was that?” Jo met his gaze as she considered her words. A crucial moment, what to say, more importantly, what not to say. “At the time, I guess it just didn’t register with me. You know, what him being there meant.” “I see.” He took a careful breath and continued. “Mrs. Taylor stay close to home today. Detective Thomas will have some questions later today. Until then, you should get some rest.” She closed the door and nodded. As he drove away, he keyed up the radio, “Charlie 10, switch,” (turn to the talk-around channel to the talk). “Charlie 9, 10-12” (is your passenger still in the vehicle?) Mike Jenkins, “Negative,” Kirk Murphy, “start my way,” “10-4” Mike grimaced, Kirk’s tone told him they had found the woman. Jo walked a crossed her driveway then up the stairs to her covered porch. She froze in place, the blood-coated knife planted in her welcome mat. Wild images attacked her thoughts; tiny steps backward inched her against the porch-swing her knees buckled, as she melted into the swing, white knuckles gripped the swing’s edge, “how is that possible,” who did that, she thought. Her eyes transfixed on the object; if examined by the authorities, none of her prints would be on Bob’s blade. Jo had even used his gloves, which she tucked in the basket as she ate the berries. None of these things made sense; the missing body, the rose, and now the weapon. She rubbed her thumb over the small scar on her finger and stared. Adrenaline screamed through her veins, as her hands tremored, prickly pins assaulted her nerves, and her spine straightened. A normal person would suspect Bob of messing with her mind, he could have been hiding in the park that night, and now setting her up for blackmail. Somehow that did not ring true. “Sandy,” she whispered, then rubbed the scar on her finger, as a patch of white flashed by the curtain, she stiffened, “knitted as one,” she whispered as she remembered the blood oath silly college girls had made fifteen years ago leaving the foursome with a small scar on the index finger. The Knife’s Edge Jo’s eyes darted from the lace curtain back to the knife. The sound of tires crunching gravel caused her to lift her head to see a silver Honda in her driveway. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Jo closed her eyes, and hung her head, hoping she could get rid of them. Two nicely dressed women waved at Jo, then headed her way. The sound of their car doors slamming ignited her heart. Her pounding heartbeat echoed off her eardrums, she had no idea what they were saying, her own thoughts outweighed the voices of her good friends. Jo sprung to her feet to tuck the knife away. Desperate fingers bound forward covering the blade’s hilt. The connection complete electric impulses fired off neurons and spasmed her hand. Upper and lower teeth snapped together. Every muscle in her body contracted, as a vision of Sandy on the dangerous end of that knife appeared, hazel eyes gazed into her own. The connection slowed time, and Jo held her breath, terrified to breathe, fearing Sandy’s spirit would invade her own. The two women rounded the corner of the hedges, chatting away; their voices mere static to Jo. “I don’t know what to say to her.” A dark-haired woman said, with a pixie hair cut that fit her petite body and dark eyes. “We don’t have to say anything, we just need to be there for our friend,” a tall, lean, redhead said with wild curly hair, and pale grey eyes. Jo pulled free of the vision and straightened, a stray curl fell free of her ponytail, settling between her eyes. Her chest heaved with heavy breath, beads of sweat burned across the base of her neck. There was no knife in her hand. Jo held that pink rose, a dark mist enveloped the rose. Just like morning fog it dissipated, until her hand only held her keys, and without warning, she threw-up. “Oh, honey,” Margarette sighed. “Get the keys from her hand,” Janet dictated. “take her inside, and clean her up, while I’ll hose off the porch.” The two women scurried about, fussing over Jo. One had ice water and aspirin, the other a cold compress and blanket. At this point, Jo wasn’t sure which one had done what. Jo hand the empty water glass to Margarette, “how about a small brandy instead?” Jo asked. “Sure thing... Janet, how about you?” Janet held up her thumb and index finger, giving the symbol for a small drink. The three women sat on the sofa and quietly drained their tumblers. The house's silence felt heavy. Janet cradled her glass, running a finger around the rim, “sweetie, we came as soon as we heard the terrible news.” “Yes, Sandy’s mother called me. Beverly, the poor dear, was a hysterical mess a deputy knocked on her door looking for Sandy, he told her about Shawn, she called me, in a panic. I called Janet…” “…and here we are. Have you heard anything new?” Janet asked tugging at her brown yoga pants. “No," she said with a deep sigh, "nothing new, not yet anyway,” Jo wanted them there, she even needed them, but she feared they would see right through her straight into her soul, “I love you both so much, but right now I need quiet and rest.” Jo hoped they would take the hint and leave. She sat her glass on the table as a hint. “Of course, you do go upstairs, take a hot shower, then hop in bed. We’ll run off any buzzy bodies that show-up and run interference with the media.” Janet said as both women nodded. “The media!” “Yes, dear, it’s all over the radio. They’re calling it ‘the tragic, triangle.’ “Janet sighed. It’s true, KHITS has all but accused Sandy of killing Shawn in a lover’s rage, then ran off, the radio seems to have the story on all the local stations.” Margarette said as she studied her friend. Jo looked frail, tired, and so very worried, but her eyes were clear, and tear free which felt all wrong, but decided shock had Jo off-center, and passed it off. Jo silently considered what her friends said, as she did the sterling silver frame caught her eye, itched across the top of the frame F.F.F. Four young women posed in the picture, all four had tossed their caps in the air, holding diplomas. Their bright smiles declaring an even brighter future. Janet and Margarette followed Jo's gaze, all three women looked at the picture. Three sets of glassy eyes blinked back tears. Jo walked in silence. She stood on the first step and looked at her two friends. She nodded at them, then headed upstairs in silence for a shower and nap. Jo knew a hot shower couldn’t fix this disaster. The four women had been friends since college. They met on the first day of rush. As a matter of fact, the three of them were the reason Jo moved to Sheldon, and their new job was how she met Shawn. Jo frowned as she remembered the magic she felt when she laid eyes on the dreamy scientist. Sandy too was smitten with the handsome stranger, she had raised her eyebrows at Jo, and the battle for his affections began. He was a six-foot-six, brown-eyed mystery, who just a few days ago broke Jo's heart destroying her world. She wasn’t sorry, but she was uncertain if she could make peace with what she had done. Sandy, Janet, and Margarette all grew-up here, and the four of them worked at the lab as researchers. As she ascended the steps, she rubbed her thumb to her index finger to relieve an itch. The tiny scar reminded her of the night the four frat-sisters promised to be faithful, friends, forever, and knit their souls as one. 'All for one, and one for all.' “I didn’t break our promise,” Jo mumbled, “it was you… not me.” Jo was surprised to find the hot shower did help, it made her fell much better. Wet hair was quickly braided, and she slipped on her running cloths. With two Tylenol PM’s in hand, she nestled down on the pillow, hugging it. Her nerves were wired as the silent reel to reel scene played in her head. Soon the images faded, and 'When A Man Loves A Woman,' took its place. Jo felt like she would never sleep again, but within minutes deep rhythmic breathing pulled her into a deep dark state of rest. The faint sound of footsteps invaded her sleep, echoes of whispers danced. Soft sobs grew becoming more pronounced, the rose garden played in Jo’s mind as her friends’ words mingled with images. "I never dreamed someone I know would be murdered, little lone two people, I know and love." “I guess this turn of events makes Bob the prime suspect, the b*****d,” Janet whispered. “I always thought he would do her harm, Jo and I talked about that very thing last week.” “Officer Murphy said it looked like Shawn didn’t die right away, he tried to get help. He made it to the parking lot, that’s where they found him, and why they didn’t find the second body right away.” Jo’s thrashed under the weight of the words. She fought to wake but could not get free of the darkness. The Raven “Jo, we’re going to lock-up the house. We must go downtown with Officer Jenkins. There’s more bad news, they found Sandy. Jo, dear, can you hear me?” Janet asked as she tapped Jo’s hip, Jo twitched but never opened her eyes. “You rest, we’ll do what’s needed, then come back, okay.” Jo didn’t answer, Janet turned on the little table lamp, the girls left a note on the nightstand, then left. It’s odd, but sleep and time seem to battle one another. It felt like a short moment later, Jo could hear a far-off sound that rousted her from slumber. Now in a twilight of rest, not quite awake but no longer in restful sleep. A sound rose to her thoughts. A metallic jiggling sound, a short-repeated popping. Possibly a locked door trying to be opened. Her friends must be out-front. “I bet the key is stuck again,” a sleeping voice muttered. Jo tossed the light airy afghan aside to let them in. Just as soon as she stepped into the hallway, she could tell the sound emanated from her linen closet. Mr. Coffee, her long-haired ‘Big Maine Coon Cat,’ must be locked in. “Mr. Coffee, you bad cat, you woke mommy from her nap, didn’t you?” Once before the silly cat got stuck in the linen closet. Jo shuffled down the hall, the repeated popping sound joined a light scratching. A tapping that began to grow louder chimed in; She had lived in this house with Shawn for nearly ten years, not once had she been afraid, but now in the cover of predawn a wave of cold washed over her, while fear stifled her stride. She blinked a few times, rolled her neck to free some tension. She shook her arms as if shaking off bad vibes, and continued walking. “Crazy Cat,” Jo glowered with each word. Firmly latching hold of the doorknob, that familiar, feeling of electric impulses charged her senses. The scent of roses and ‘White Shoulders’ perfume made her mouth turn dry as her insides churned. Sandy, in that blood-soaked dress, linked her spirit to the current. Quickly Jo closed her eyes to escape her friends gaze, but the image of the woman met her there in her mind Sandy’s left eye, a white milky mess, “Jo,” Sandy called. Jo shook her head no, forced her eyes tighter as if that would help. “Jo,” she said again only louder, beautiful mocha hair suspended in the ‘nothers’ of Jo’s mind pulsed and moved Jo could not look away from the milling motion. A fluttering sound of feathers began, and a part formed. A blackbird shot out. Screams tore free from the pit of Jo’s churning stomach. Her eyes flew open. “You killer!” The Sandy’s shade screamed snapping unhinged teeth in her old friend’s face. Jo ripped her hand free, the unlatched door swung. Tumbling backward, Jo fell. Feverous sounds of terror exploded. Those screams spilled down the stairs, and outside into the street. There was no Mr. Coffee in that closet! A burst of black feathers rushed out. Four soulless ravens jetted from the dark, pecking, flying, darting in Jo’s golden curls. Talons covered her pale lilac top in a mixture of clay and blood. Pecking at her stitches, had warm blood flowing. Sharp pain burned through her brain. A large raven met her eyes to soul-gaze. Judging her very essence damned. Then pecked at her eye. Jo’s screams never stopped, but only grew. Instinctively she covered her eyes. She laid in the hall, writhing in pain. Kicking her feet. Contorting her body. Pleading, pleading with the now empty space. The hall light flipped on. Her two friends ran toward Jo. They could see their friend with her back to them. Kicking and screaming, like a small child having a meltdown; screaming Sandy’s name. Screaming for mercy. The Condemned Confess Again, Janet and Margarette bond up the stairs to flip on the bedroom light, to find Jo sitting up in bed, screaming. This was the fourth night she had this same nightmare. The overhead light tore away the veil of the damned, and Jo wept. Her friends sit one on each side of her. They stroked her hair and whispered in her ear. Then the three friends just sat there in silence. Finally, Jo’s sobs stopped, “it’s true what the Bible says in Genesis 4:10... ‘Your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground.’ Sister’s blood in our case. The slain, do cry out.” Jo said with her rosary beads wrapped in her hand. “Oh Honey, you have to give this some time, the police will catch up with Bob.” Janet nodded in agreement as Margarette spoke. “Bob’s a fool,” Jo hissed then began crying again, “I don’t know why the stupid man ran?” “The guilty are desperate people,” Janet said, then sighed. “The guilty are desperate... Desperate for peace of mind and forgiveness,” Jo laid down the rosary, and reached for both of their hands, “please, go to work today, I need some time to myself.” Janet started to protest, but Margarette shook her head at her old friend. The two women rose. “We’ll be back... tonight... right after work. Okay?” “That’ll be fine, I’ll leave the front door unlocked for you.” The smile the three women shared trembled, barely turning up the corners of the mouth, but just like ‘three on a match’ it got the job done. Jo removed the cap to her medicine tapped some out, and with a big drink of water took the pills. She dialed Officer Mike Jenkins’ cell phone. It took several rings for him to answer. “Mike, this is Jo, Jo Taylor.” “Yes, ma’am what can I do for you?” Jo rubbed the scar on her index finger. She drew in a deep breath, then spoke, “Well for starters, you can have them stop looking for Bob,”...
© 2019 CherrieAuthor's Note
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Added on May 18, 2019Last Updated on July 13, 2019 Tags: murder_revenge_haunting Author
CherrieSpringfield , MOAboutI am a published poet and love poetry. After a lifetime of country living, I'm making a move back to town. I find my surroundings a great inspiration to me. I also have two books on Amazon Kindle: .. more..Writing
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