They found her handbag wedged in the groove of a tree. At least, her roomie, Joanie, id’d it as hers. That he had her was obvious. Inside all personal items left had been dipped in bleach and placed in baggies like evidence bags. Good luck Forensics. Wish NCSI was for real. No Abby here to find an Achilles heel among the bleached. The for real stuff makes the entertainment look like kiddie shows. Back to the files, look for patterns, find the kinky bit that’d slip him up. So we wouldn’t find her dead. So dead, we’d be heaving. Known as the heave squad within the bureau cause we only got the sickies. The real sickies that beat Dexter out every time.
The screeching gets to me every time. Why can’t they shut up when I ask so polite. No fist. No electric wire and water. No duct tape. Just a Big Mac, fries, coke and some quiet while I work, honey. But they want it their way – no accounting for the gasoline it took, the carbon footprint, just to bring them a token of my affection. I need to know their anatomy, down to the very marrow, before the lime.
Not fair. He gave me all the flattery about my hair, my bare feet in the mud of that spring day in the orchard. He didn’t care about the clutter in our apartment. Or, if I’d do all the chattering and he sat silent, pounding the pillow, or stroking the cat. His lovemaking was inexhaustible. But, he kidnaps Joanie. Behind my back. All the time it was Joanie he creepily lusted for. I was just a front, a shell. Not fair. Now I’m just the room mate who identified the handbag. The former girlfriend who brought Mr. Creep into her life. Cameras only come by when I’ve been crying and my hair’s all messy.
Only light from the computer screen. Lost nuance yesterday. I need a bellwether – someone to lead me to the answers. I didn’t expect she’d be the one.
Damn, this one is a twister. Now she is in the net, too late to toss. Maybe the roomie would have been better – she already tasted my treasures.
Okay, just knock on the door and say I need absolution – tell em reload the computer with this and hand them the flash drive. The video he didn’t know of our lovemaking. The frozen frame of his face. The condom with his seed in a Ziploc baggie like an evidence bag. I’m so sorry Joanie.
Faustian was the only word that came to mind. To both our minds. The girls didn’t have the vocabulary.