The next day at his office, he ran a search on the address, thinking his wife may have been having an affair. It seems it was a woman who owned the property. Me.
He remembered seeing my name on a credit card receipt while paying the bills one month and put two and two together. The purchase was from a local bookstore; my book title, “The Silent Kill”; and I was the author she had met with. Only Talon’s deduction was that I reached out to his wife because I had figured something out while writing my book. He had it all wrong.
So that’s when her husband’s obsession with me began; and also, when I became a part of Dominique’s story. She never intended for me to get hurt, and I don’t blame her for any of it. I’m just glad they are all safe.
She ended up getting a new set of fake ID’s and passports. I’m sure she was far, far away from here before she called you with the tip on the death of his first wife.”
I inhaled deeply and exhaled with a sigh of relief. It felt good getting the truth off my chest.
“I hope you can forgive me for not breaking her confidence?” I asked, almost begging. I was looking him right in his eyes, asking for forgiveness.
“I understand what you did and why you did it, but a lot of man hours were spent on this case looking for the family we thought he murdered. You understand that right?” he responded firmly.
I nodded my head, hoping he would not be slapping the cuffs on me from across the table.
“It just would have been nice to have this information up front,” shaking his head, apparently frustrated with me. “And when did you realize your stalker was Dominique’s husband?”
“It was at the warehouse, before he moved me to the lake house. He was on his phone and I heard him say her name,” I answered. “That’s when I put it all together.”
“Wow. Well, um… I’m going to need to take some time and mull this over, if you don’t mind? I’m not saying you broke any laws, but it’s just… just a lot to process,” he said as he stood up to leave. Tiny had fallen asleep in his lap, so he laid him gently on the linoleum floor.
“Of course, I understand,” I mumbled. I had finally met a nice man, and then ruined it by breaking his trust.
I walked him to the door and we said our goodbyes.
| CHAPTER 24
The Purrrfect Ending
I can’t believe I am doing this. I finally meet a nice lady and this is how we start our relationship?
Relationship. Why is that word so scary to me? Maybe because Martha was my everything. The light of my life. My reason for living. I never wanted to go on living after her death. If it wasn’t for the job…
I was raised to believe in God and sent to Sunday school as a child, but for the life of me, I don’t understand why God has to take all the kind, beautiful souls so early. I can still remember the day Martha and I got the first diagnosis; sitting in the doctor’s office holding hands. Martha stayed positive all through chemo, right up until we got the second diagnosis. The chemo wasn’t working and the cancer was spreading. She was gone three months later. I’ve been alone and grieving ever since. Even after a year, I was unsure of whether Martha would consider it adultery if I tried to date again. My life had gotten so lonely, with only the job to keep me occupied.
For some reason, I imagined her looking down on me with her head tilted to the side and finger scolding me. I was smiling to myself when suddenly I was startled.
“Night Solace!” Billings yelled over his shoulder as he headed for the front door of the station, anxious to start his Saturday night no doubt.
“Night Billings! Don’t break too many hearts out there tonight!” I yelled back.
The station was half-full and I wanted to change and freshen up a bit in the locker room before heading out. This was going to be a tough night. Anna Romano seemed like such a nice lady.
I was driving extra slowly, and reached her house forty-five minutes after departing the station. I sat out front of her quaint house, in her quaint neighborhood. Trees, flowers, white picket fences, and happy people out walking their dogs, waving hello as they passed each other. I could definitely get used to this type of life. I could see why Anna missed it so much when she was ‘away’.
I drug my feet up the steps and eventually rang the bell.
Anna opened the door, all smiles, with an apron on and a dish towel in her hands. The smell of marinara sauce enticed me through the screen door. I closed my eyes for a brief second to get up the nerve to do what I came to do. It had to be done. I considered it a direct order from the man above.
She opened the door welcoming me in and Tiny was there to greet me once again; up on his hind legs, paws reaching all the way up to my knees. I hoped she will forgive my intrusion into her life.
“I’m so sorry to drop in on you like this, Ms. Romano,” I stumbled over my words. It had been three days since I walked out of her kitchen, unsure how to handle the new information I had discovered on the Talon case.
“No worries Detective, come in please, and call me Anna,” she said as she smiled.
“Okay… Anna,” I blushed. I had to stay firm and remember why I was there.
“I was just cooking up some manicotti. Care to join me?” she asked as she turned back towards the kitchen.
“Before you go, there is something I need to do,” I told her. “Something that will be very hard for me, and took me a long time to make a decision about.”
“I understand and expected as much. You’re just doing your job,” she responded, as she removed her apron, set it on the back of the chair, and folded her hands together neatly in front of her.
I stepped forward, looked her directly in the eyes, reached out to touch her arm with one hand, leaned in to her face, and kissed her.
Anna. I said her name in my head as I kissed her long and hard. And she kissed me back, as she wrapped her arms around my neck.
Afterwards, she stepped back, eyes wide, and said, “Well, that’s NOT what I was expecting! Whew! You are quite the kisser detective.”
“Call me John,” I said shyly. My face was flush. The hard part was over. Now I can begin to get to know Anna as a real person, and not a victim.
“Hope you’re hungry… John. The manicotti is just about ready,” she responded with a wink and a smile.
As we ate manicotti, Caesar salad, and garlic bread at the kitchen table. We laughed and talked about our lives and many interests through dinner. Anna was a fascinating and resilient woman.
She was just about to beat me in our second game of Scrabble when my radio squawked — something about a disturbance at a bar downtown.
Back to reality. Oh well. Maybe Tiny would miss me and I’d have to come back… real soon. Anna’s was a home that made me feel welcome and wanted, and I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Not since Martha died a few years back.
I believe it is time.
I believe I am ready… to try again.
About the Author
Cheryl Powell, (writing under pen name Cheryl Denise Bannerman), is a multi-genre author of three successful works of fiction, a motivational speaker, and CEO. She resides in Orlando, Florida, where she runs a virtual Training and Development company, GC Learning Services LLC dba Learn2Engage, which she founded in 1996.
“My mother introduced me to books at an early age and encouraged me to not only read, but also write. I remember having my first poem published in a collective book of poetry at the age of only 13. And when my mother wasn’t working, I would read her my short stories, soaking in her edits and feedback like a sponge. Even at an early age, I was searching for perfection in my writings.”
Through the trials and tribulations of her life, she has learned to heal through her writing. One of the few female authors to introduce topics of social concern within ‘fictional’ stories, her books draw from the most intimate life experiences and include characters who have been victims of child molestation and domestic violence, and who suffer from depression and various other addictions.
For example, her second book, Words Never Spoken, which just won the 2018 Book Excellence Award, is a self-help, poetry, chapter-book about a woman who escaped an abusive relationship, and even includes self-reflection journal pages for readers to document their feelings and begin healing.
Her goal in life is to keep writing and continue helping victims of Domestic Abuse/Violence, Grief and ANON family groups, and Corporate Health and Wellness groups, to heal through words — encouraging them to ‘write the pain’ via journaling, and expressing themselves through short stories, songs, and poetry.
Book 2 of The Anna Romano Series
THE PROLOGUE
I had just pulled the lasagna out of the oven when my phone rang. It was Shirlene. She was checking on me again for the tenth time this week. I guess she was as surprised as me that I was tangled up in yet another criminal investigation. She knew how stubborn I could be, and wanted me to lay low and follow John’s instructions to stay out of the investigation. I couldn’t believe how stingy he had been with information on the case the past few days. It just didn’t seem fair. I mean, I did find the first body. Geez.
“Don’t mess this up! John is one of the good ones,” Shirlene said as if scolding a small child.
“I won’t, don’t worry,” I responded as I hung up the call.
Famous last words of a nosy Italian woman. Ha!
I wrapped the lasagna in my insulated food carry bag to keep it warm and headed for the car humming to myself.
I plugged the address I retrieved from my search on the Internet to Sherman Atkinson’s home and started on my way.
I was rehearsing what I was going to say to him when the GPS told me I had arrived at my destination. I pulled into the long driveway and stared up at the large two-story home in awe. I was gathering my bags in the front seat when Mark stepped out of the front door and headed towards my car.
I stepped out to greet him and he offered to help me with the bags.
“Oh no, I’m fine. Thank you. Just brought a little something to say how sorry I am about your mom. How are you holding up?”
“Okay, I guess. Just heading to a friend’s house. My dad’s inside. Thank you for the food, it smells great,” he replied as he walked to his car and got inside. Such a polite young man, I thought to myself.
I waved as he pulled off and was startled to find Sherman Atkinson at the door watching.
“Mr. Atkinson. How are you? I was just dropping off a pan of lasagna for you and your son for after the funeral tomorrow. I know cooking is the last thing on your mind when these things happen. I’m so sorry about your wife,” I said, a bit awkwardly.
“That’s very nice of you, Ms. Romano, right? You were the one that discovered her body in the bathroom at the charity ball,” he seemed to confirm and question at the same time.
I nodded with empathy. “Yes, it was such a terrible thing that happened to her.”
“Aren’t you also that detective’s girlfriend?” he asked, as we walked to the door and he graciously took the pan out of my hands.
“Well, yes, but… yes, I am.”
As we entered the foyer and walked towards the kitchen, I looked around at the beautiful designs. Marble floors, exquisite art, abstract sculptures… “Was your wife the decorator of the house?” I asked in awe. “It’s so beautiful!”
“Yes, it was one of her many hobbies. She enjoyed collecting antiques and visited auctions quite a bit,” he smiled to himself.
As he was taking the pan out of the carry bag, and placing it in the fridge, his cell phone chirped. Suddenly, his facial features changed and he turned to me with a furrowed brow. “Why don’t you tell me the real reason you are here, Ms. Romano.”
Just then, my phone chirped.
John texted: Hey. Where are you?
I responded: Don’t be mad at me… dropping off pan of lasagna at Mr. Atkinson’s house
John replied: He’s a suspect in the murders. GET OUT NOW!
John’s text is the last thing I remember before feeling a cold knife pressed to my neck.
Cats, Cannolis and a Curious Kidnapping Page 8