by Donna West
cold. He checked the temperature gauge. It read seventy-five degrees. The chill passed and he brushed it off as just the ordeal he was about to enact. He cranked the car and roared out of the parking lot.
When he pulled in at the Medical Examiner’s office, he did a double check in the mirror. He looked the part. As he rose from the car, he strode, shoulders slumped, toward the door. He had called his neighbor, Jack, on the way. He was standing in front of the door waiting for him.
Jack threw his arms around his neighbor and sobbed “I am so sorry!” I still can’t believe it”
Kerry began to shake violently, tears streaming down his face. “I don’t want to go in there!” It just can’t be her!” he whispered hoarsely.
They opened the door where they were greeted by a well-dressed woman with graying hair who led them to a seat and handed them a box of tissues.
“Please,” she stated softly, “have a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly. I am so very sorry for your loss sir.”
“Thank you so very much.” Kerry stated, sniffing back the tears he had concocted afresh in the car just prior to arriving at the medical examiner’s office.
A tall, thin man with graying hair entered the room. His face bore the lines of a man far beyond his years … of one who had seen far too much in his life to sleep soundly … free of dreams … through the night.
He gazed at them through eyes that seemed to carry a perpetual sadness placed there many years ago when he had first begun his work. Too many; far too many of the dead had passed through his care through the years, and many taken long before their time; women, children, young men … and others. The ones who stood out were the violent ones. The ones such as the young woman whose husband sat before him now were among them. It seemed he remembered each and every one in painful detail.
“Hello,” he said. “I am Doctor Rath. I called earlier. Just let me say how very sorry I am for your loss. I can only imagine what you must be going through sir. And now, if you will please come with me, I assure you that I will make this as painless for you as I can. But you must prepare yourself for the shock of what you are about to see.”
They entered a cold, starkly furnished room equipped with a several metal tables and what appeared to be large file cabinets in the back. A tray containing freshly cleaned instruments sat to the side of one of the tables. Many were sharp and Kerry did little behind the doctor’s back to contain his interest in them. Kerry knew what the drawers held. He’d been through this before.
His mind raced as he re-lived in a flash, all the other times he had done this very thing. He sighed. He had thoroughly enjoyed each and every moment of every woman he had brought to this end. And ultimately, they had all come to this end. The only difference was they manner in which he chose to bring them here. He thought for a moment. He was really quite brilliant. All these years, and not one person had ever given him a second thought as being the murderer! He almost smiled at that. He was good. And he knew it!
The Medical Examiner stepped to one of the drawers and opened the door and pulled a long tray from it. The cold steel of the tray made a creaking noise as it slid open, revealing its contents. It held Tracey’s cold, blue body. The incisions made by the medical examiner … the sharply formed ‘V’ at her chest was not quite covered by the crisp white sheet which afforded her body some sense of dignity. One hand had slipped out from under the sheet when the drawer had been pulled open, dangling lifeless at the side of the table. . The area, now blue-black, where Kerry’s knife had sliced through her flesh, stood out starkly against the white of the walls as if in accusation.
Jack slumped against the wall, sobbing and shouting “No! No! It just can’t be! Kerry …”
Kerry whispered “Oh! No! No! My God! It is her. Yes, Doctor, this is my wife, Tracey Shelton. What…How did this happen?” “ Oh, God! NO”! He slumped to the floor, mock tears streaming down his face, shoulders shuddering with great sobs.
He felt strong arms helping him to a chair.
When he looked up, Doctor Rath had positioned himself in a chair just opposite him. His sad, dark eyes held sympathy for the man before him.
“I have ruled this death a suicide, Mr. Shelton. The cuts on your wife’s wrists are consistent with those of a suicide victim. I am so very sorry. Is there anything we can do for you now?” queried Rath.
Kerry sat for a few minutes, weeping uncontrollably. “No, Dr. Rath. I can’t think of anything at the moment. In fact, I can’t think at all right now. I guess I need to begin to think of making arrangements for her funeral. Thank you Doctor. You have been most kind.”
He and Jack left the building.
Jack asked what he could do to help.
Kerry stated flatly, “I … I just don’t know.” I have never been through this before.”
Jack whispered, “Me and the wife will cook something up for you tonight and we will be there if you need us. Anybody you want us to call, you just say the word. “
Kerry thanked him, slid into the seat of the car, and drove slowly toward home. Once again he noted the odd chill in the car and kicked the heat on. It did little to disperse the cold.
He whirled the Porsche into its parking spot in the garage of his spacious home. He climbed out, shoulders deliberately slumped, and walked slowly toward the house. Once at the door, he jabbed the key into the lock and the big oak door swung open. He sauntered inside, taking in a deep breath. He could still smell the scent of blood faintly, even though the maid had cleaned once the police had given her permission to do so. He walked to the liquor cabinet and pulled out the bottle of expensive Scotch that lay waiting for him. The crystal of the flask felt familiar and welcoming to his hand as he slid it appreciatively over the gleaming bottle. Quickly then he slipped the matching top from the bottle and poured three fingers of the amber liquid into a crystal highball glass. Smiling, he tossed the liquid to the back of his throat, feeling the warmth of it settling in the center of his stomach. Taking the remainder of the drink with him, he settled himself into the expensive leather chair which was positioned so that he could see the windows and doors as well as the television at the same time. He had pulled the shades and curtains when he had entered the house. Taking the remote in his hand he flicked the button and moved the channel to the local news.
The story of Tracey’s death was the first thing that met his eyes.
Methodically he hit the ‘record’ button. He would watch this many times over the coming weeks. He always liked to review his handiwork! It made the next time even better.
He watched as Tracey’s photo flashed across the screen and then his own. They had caught him on camera coming out of the coroner’s office! Good! That was good! He appeared every inch the shocked, grieving widow. Good! Very Good!
Tomorrow he would make the funeral arrangements. Of course he would have Tracey cremated just as he had all the others. That way there would be precious little evidence, if any, left behind. A clean trail. Always a clean trail.
He tossed the remainder of the drink into his mouth and rose to head to the bedroom.
He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck as if in salute to an unseen presence.
Kerry whirled.
“Who’s there?” he shouted.
Only silence met his questioning scream.
He grinned. It had been his imagination. After all, it was a hard days work acting the part of the grieving widower of a dead woman.
He turned and walked into the bedroom and stood gazing at the bed . . . remembering.
Then he turned and placing the glass carefully on the nightstand, he slid out of his clothing. Standing nude before the bed, he started to slip into his usual position in it. Then, as though an afterthought had hit him, he turned and walked to the place Tracey had lain, turned back the sheets and snuggled into the softness of the bed. Within moments he was sound asleep.
But around him unseen eyes watched … and waited for him. They waited patiently for the time when he would make a fatal
error. And err he would, for they knew he would not be able to resist doing the same thing he had done to them again.
They were gathering for a battle. It would come soon, Very soon.
They would bide their time until all was ready.
Follow this story as an attorney mysteriously acquires a business card linking him with her across several states, an old Indian woman whose legacy leaves her open to the spirit world and a family in Ireland which closes in on the murderer. The following book is longer and full of mystery and intrigue.
About the author:
Hi! I am Donna Susan West. I live in Ireland with my husband of 7 years who encouraged me to pursue writing full time. I have always loved to write and read. My writing reflects my heart and soul …me. I have 4 children and 4 beautiful grandchildren. I had a step-son with a beautiful sprit named Kjell (‘shell’) who was called home in 2008. There is also Zara, Molly and Dixie, three small dogs, adopted from MADRA that rules the roost in our home. In the yard we have a few chickens.
If you enjoyed this book you may also enjoy my first book Life Love and Other Stuff which is a collection of poetry and short stories (ISBN 9781453572610).
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