But boy, if I could ever go back. The things I would do to his face.
The woman’s eyes stared at me in terror, tears streaming down her face. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was about to come. The man stepped in through the door. He glared at me, obviously surprised to see the police badge that I was holding up.
“What the hell is going on here?” he growled.
The sound of his voice made me shiver. I had heard the same tone in my old partner when he realized I had told our Chief what happened. He had attacked me in the hallway and yelled at me. It was that same anger I now heard in this man in front of me, and it scared me.
I didn’t respond, but I held my gun up, ready to defend myself if necessary.
The man’s eyes flickered to the open door, and he took a step toward it. “Where’s my family?” he snarled.
I raised my gun higher, now pointing it directly at him.
“Stay back,” I warned. “Your family is safe. You need to come with me.”
The man sneered. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Who do you think you are? You have no right to interfere in my family.”
But he was wrong. I had every right to interfere, because he had been abusing his family. No one had the right to do that, and it was my duty to protect them.
“Put your hands up,” I commanded. “You’re under arrest.”
The man’s eyes widened in surprise and then fear. He knew he was caught. He raised his hands slowly, but then suddenly lunged toward me, trying to knock the gun out of my hand. I reacted quickly, sidestepping his attack and grabbing him by the arm. With practiced ease, I twisted his arm behind his back and forced him to the ground. He struggled, but I held him down firmly. I didn’t freeze up. I didn’t let him intimidate me. Finally, I was able to react, to do the right thing in a situation like this.
“Stop fighting,” I ordered. “It’s over. You’re going to jail.”
I handcuffed him and stood up, keeping my gun aimed at him, reading him his Miranda rights, until my backup arrived.
As they took him away, I turned to the woman and her children. They were huddled together, watching me with wide eyes. I walked toward them slowly, trying to ease their fears.
“It’s all over now,” I said softly, feeling relieved and slightly proud of myself. “You’re safe.”
As I drove home later that evening, after finishing my report, I could no longer keep the tears at bay. I let them roll and soon I was crying heavily inside of my car. I drove up into my street, and parked in my driveway, then bent over the steering wheel and let it all out, all the fears, all the anxiety and anger about this world and the injustices I had to face every day.
And I still hadn’t found Emma. Or put Cassandra’s killer behind bars.
TWENTY-ONEASHLEY
Ashley stared at the dead body on the floor. The water in the shower was still running. He was lying on the white tiles with his eyes open wide, his body twisted in an unnatural position. Ashley’s heart raced as she tried to process what had just happened. She slowly stepped closer to the body, her eyes fixed on the almost purple bruises around his neck.
She knew immediately that he had been strangled. She had watched her share of crime shows, enough to know what that looked like. Her mind raced as she tried to piece together what could have led to this.
How did it happen? Was someone here while I slept? Who did this?
The shock paralyzed her, and she just stood there, frozen, staring at the man she had kissed, held, liked—hours before. He was gone. She was quickly drenched in sweat by the horror of what she was looking at.
Call the police. Grab the phone and call them.
She was about to turn around and walk back into the room to get her phone, when she paused.
They’ll think I did it. They’ll think I murdered him.
As Ashley stood there, panicking, she noticed something strange. The window was open, despite the hot night air outside. She shivered as she realized that the murderer could still be in the apartment.
Get out. Get out now.
She was slowly backing away from the body, when she heard a rustling noise from behind her. She spun around and found herself face-to-face with someone wearing a ski mask.
In his hand he was holding a belt with a big shiny buckle.
TWENTY-TWOBILLIE ANN
Joe had a strange look on his face when he came home. I had made dinner and eaten with the kids, wondering what held him up at work.
If he was even at work still.
Joe was in construction and had his own company, which usually meant he could come and go as he pleased. It was a huge help for us because I never knew what my day looked like, and he could pick up the kids and drop them off if needed. Right now, his company was working on building a new hotel on the beach, and it was a big job, but usually he would always be home for dinner at least.
Just not today.
“Oh, hi,” he said, almost like he was surprised to see me home, and closed the door behind him. “We’re drinking wine now on a weekday?”
“I just had a rough day,” I said and sipped my wine.
Joe walked closer, then scoffed. “If you say so.”
I frowned. Joe’s tone was dismissive, and I could tell he was upset. His eyes avoided mine, and I could feel the tension building in the room.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
