The sun and humidity were merciless in tandem, as they pushed down on her back and shoulders. She retrieved another damp piece of laundry out of the basket. Her fingers searched for the seams and bottom hem of the white t-shirt. Normally she loved hanging laundry on the line. She loved the nostalgic satisfaction she got from feeling, like she had stepped back in time. She loved pulling her sheets up at night, after they had spent the day drying on the line. She’d inhale deeply, the summertime scent of the sun’s rays that had fanned their way through the threads, just to tuck her in at night. It reminded her of her youth-filled summers. It brought back memories and images of everything from fireflies, to kick the can, to riding on the dropped down tailgate of her grandfather’s truck...swinging her legs and watching the trail dust, blur behind them, as the tires kicked up gravel. But in this heat she would have gladly forgone the nostalgia, she didn’t feel as if she really had a choice though...she didn’t want to run the dryer and make the house any warmer than it already was.
She clutched the wooden pin in her mouth...gave the shirt a good shake and pinned it to the already crowded line. A drop of sweat ran down the small of her back, tickling, as it etched its way to the waist band of her jean capris, where it was absorbed. She picked up another shirt from the basket and held its cool dampness close to her face. It was cool and clean but it brought no reprieve to her overheated body. She could feel that her face was flushed that deep, dark red that it got. She inhaled the subtle lavendar scented soap, that had left its mark there...woven into the fabric and then pinned the shirt next to the previous one.
She would be glad when this heat wave broke...it was impossible to do anything, including sleep. She had hardly slept at all in the last 4 days and from the forecast it didn’t seem like she was going to get a goodnight’s sleep any time soon. The cicadas seemed to mock her discomfort of the heat, by buzzing even louder than usual, creating a dizzying vibration, in her already buzzing, sleep deprived head. She could hear the telephone ringing from inside the house and jaunted heavily, in what felt like, slow motion, up the slight mound of a hill in the back yard. The clothes line, seemed so far away from the cool shade of the house now. She muttered to herself, about not having had just brought the phone outside with her. The brittle grass crunched and prickled beneath her bare-feet as they carried her to the back door. The shade of the house was welcome but still did nothing to offer any real refuge from the chronic heat.
She allowed the screen door to just bang shut behind her, as she awkwardly leapt over the unexpected trash bin that lay spilled across the kitchen floor. ‘Aargh‘ that dumb dog! She reached the phone just in time to get a dial tone. They didn’t even bother to leave a message. All that for nothing! She tossed the phone onto the butcher block table and with her hands on her hips she turned to survey the mess that Mr. Buttons had decided to leave her. She couldn’t even let out a long exasperated sigh, she was too hot and too tired. Suddenly she felt an enormous pressure on the top of her head as if she were being pushed in to the ground and for a second it felt as if the ground gave way from beneath her feet. She held onto the back of a kitchen chair and carefully slunk down into it...she hoped the dizziness would pass soon.
She was tempted to just end her so called “vacation” and just go back to work tomorrow. At least the station was air conditioned, as well as her car. But she wondered if she was really ready to be back on the job. She had just closed out an awful murder case, in which a husband had hired a hit man to kill his wife for the insurance money. The blood thirsty hit man took his own liberties and also killed the couples’ 3 children as well. It was a horrific crime scene and a long couple months of gruesome photos and evidence gathering, in order to prepare the case for a proper indictment on the husband, as well as, the hit man. She was glad to be done with it and had asked to take some time off before moving on to the next case, but her life outside of work, offered no distractions.
She was 40 years old and lived alone, well except for Mr. Buttons. Her only child, Matt, had just turned 19 last fall, and after spending his 1st year away at college, had decided to preserve his new found independence, and opted to share an apartment with some friends, near campus for the summer. He wasn’t far from home...only an hour or so drive west of her, but he also wasn’t close enough to offer companionship, or a distraction, by way of her, doing his laundry or cooking or shopping for him. He was establishing his independence, and in a way she was proud of him. Even though she missed him greatly and had her own selfish reasons for wanting him to come home for the summer. She guessed this new found independence, most likely, would not spill into the following summer anyway...once Matt realized that financing independence meant working all summer. His days of care free “beaching it” or whatever else the summer breeze blew his way were history. She smiled at the innocence of the age and at that the thought that she knew he was maturing appropriately. The poor kid had, traveled such a difficult road to get to where he was.
She remembered the 1st time she met him, she was working patrol and was dispatched to a domestic. She found him hiding beneath the wooden steps in the front of the house. She lured the 3 year old out and sat with him back at the station, sharing a candy bar with him while they waited for child services to come and process him. The parents had both been arrested and hauled off. The police had discovered the parents were using their home as a crystal meth. lab. She knew he would be placed in foster care and would be in and out of homes, some good, some bad, some horrific. She knew he would never feel the love or stability that every child needs and deserves. She watched as his dirt caked fingernails gingerly grabbed hold of the chocolate and he nibbled it just as gingerly. She noted that most children would have just gobbled it up in a few bites...but Matt was different, he wanted to taste it and slowly savor each milky, chocolate bite...allowing it to melt slowly on his tongue, before taking his next nibble. She could tell he didn’t want the chocolate treasure to ever end. She knew that by the time he finished that chocolate, child services would be there. He looked up at her with his dirt streaked face, she could see the resignation in his big blue eyes. She knew one day he would sit here again but it would be with cuffs on, maybe in this same station, perhaps a different one, nevertheless a future relationship with the law was inevitable.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine the things this poor boy had seen or been through. His 3 years may as well have been 30. He was tired already, tired of life, tired of living. She could see it there in his eyes and his blank stare. She’d seen it before many times, in the criminals she’d dealt with...how they’d come out on the other end after having grown up in foster care...somewhere along the line, they’d decide they were owed something...everything! Owed for all the injustices, the abuse, the neglect, they’d endured. They blamed the police and the law and everyone, for making them shuffle thru a broken system. They’d retaliate against that same system by taking whatever they wanted, from who ever crossed their path, just because they could, because now they could be the ones to have the control. She didn’t want this for this boy...she didn’t want this for any child. But this boy was special...she didn’t know why she felt such a strong connection to him, but she knew she could not deny it or him.
It took months for her to be accepted into the foster parenting program and then she had to wait months more, before Matt was released from his current foster home. During those months Matt had already been through 3 homes and was on his 4th by the time she became an acceptable placement for him. During those months more abuse had severed this boy’s heart and hope. He was already beginning to exhibit angry and violent outbursts...out of survival he had checked his resignation at the door and become a fighter. She new she had a long road ahead of her, and almost immediately filed papers to adopt him. She wasn’t going to take a chance that the system would take him from her, only to shuffle him along. She knew she couldn’t save them all and she wasn’t so sure she could even save this little boy, but she was going to try, no matter what it took.
The phone was ringing again...she reached across the table.
“Hello?”
“Hey Sara good, I’m glad I got a hold of you. I tried your cell but it went directly to voicemail? What are you having too much fun to pick up?” it was her partner, Adam.
“Huh? Oh yeah I turned off my cell so I could relax this vacation...unfortunately I think I forgot how to relax. Didn’t really work anyway...you’re calling my house, so I guess it’s safe to say that turning it off was a waste huh?” she let out a bit of guffawed chuckle. It was her signature chuckle, it wasn’t something she noticed about herself, rather it was something that others couldn’t help but notice about her.
“Sorry...look you know I wouldn’t disturb you while you’re on vacation if it wasn’t important...but we have this case that just came in...and well...I know you requested some time off...but I really think you’re gonna want to get in on this one.”
“Whatcha got?”
“White female, mid to late 20’s. By first appearances, looks like she was strangled in her apartment, but there’s something else you should know...the killer appears to have left you a clue.”
“Huh...how so?”
“Well...he left you a postcard.”
“Whoa what do you mean...he left ME a postcard?”
“Sara...I just think you should drop whatever you’re doing and meet me here at the crime scene before more uniforms arrive and screw it all up.”
“Okay...okay uh...I’ll be right there. What’s the address?”
“151 Pine st...on the corner of Pine and Laurel...apt 3. Sara I’ve got a bad feeling about this one. I think that sicko might be back.”
She hung up the phone and didn’t waste a minute grabbing her cell and turning it back on. She slipped on her tennis sneakers, retrieved her holster and gun from the safe in her bedroom and headed out the door. She couldn’t help but notice, that with the adrenalin rush, her dizziness and focus on the heat and humidity had vanquished. She was feeling pretty good with regards to those issues. But at the same time an enormous weight seemed to have settled across her chest and her mind was a tornado of past cases. Actually of one past case...a case she never solved.
It couldn’t be him, there was no way he would risk getting caught now. But it made perfect sense too. He missed her, he was getting bored and missed the attention from her. She hadn’t even been a detective when this case was opened. She’d been working patrol and it just so happened that she was the first one on the scene, to secure it. It was actually this case that got her involved with detectives in the first place. She offered her insight to the lead detective on the case. Her instinct was right on with the evidence and so she was asked to join the team working the case. 26 year old Elsie Drado, had come home from a long day of working at a local convenience store. She had barely unlocked her door when the assailant attacked...shoving her into her apartment, locking the door behind them. He took his time torturing her, leading her to believe if she did what he wanted, then he wouldn’t kill her...which all evidence showed she did. He killed her anyway...strangulation.
Sara remembered her face. You never forget your first case and she knew she would never forget Elsie’s face. It was frozen...she seemed timeless. Well...timeless with the exception of the cut waves of her hair...hair just long enough to tickle at her jawline and lap over her ears. It was parted to the side...like thick frosting that was spread with the rhythm of a baker’s knife. Her features weren’t pretty or handsome but they weren’t homely or offensive either. She was just a plain looking girl. She held no captivating beauty amongst her whole, but Sara remembered her mouth...it was her mouth that captured your eye...left open as if in the middle of trying to tell you something of dire importance...frozen...just hanging onto a note that was whistling from the back of her throat. What was it, that she was trying tell us? What was worth her last breath, what could leave such yearning on her lips....frozen there on her face...such beauty in her desire to tell us something? The image still haunted Sara to this day. sometimes she swore she saw Elsie...at the park or the grocery store or running to take refuge from the rain under a bus shelter. But it was never her..it couldn’t be. She was dead. Sara shivered a little despite the heat and turned down the ac in her car. She drove the rest of the way in numbing mindlessness.
© Copyright 2010 Christine Maxwell All rights reserved
I actually really love this! I know you said you wouldn't go on with this character but it got me really interested and got me reading to the end to find out more. Well done :)
ReplyDeleteChris, I didn’t find the character to be too dark. Infact, I really did admire her kindness to and affinity for the maltreated. The plot of the story has a good beginning. However, it is the plot that is dark. It’s based on the degradation of man in his vilest: man against man willing to do anything to another to reach his goal or to lash out because of past abuse. The star working against high odds in her attempt to right injustices fights these dark forces. This crises is what endears the star to the reader, but may be a burden that your psyche does not need to deal with at this time.
ReplyDeleteNice sketch of an interesting character!
ReplyDelete