jj1027
January 13th, 2011, 04:52 AM
Three Blind Mice
By JJ1027
Synopsis:
Three lost people, each one searching for what is important to them in a strange new world, wrought by a common tragedy.
Three separate paths, intertwining as they all flee from a common force, united by one enemy none can overcome alone.
Three people with three things to search for. One seeking vengeance, one seeking justice, and one seeking herself.
Three blind mice. See how they run.
__________________________________________________ _____________________________________
It was nothing special really. Just an old picture in a worn down frame, sitting on top of the motel nightstand. It was a normal picture, just a man, his wife, and two kids. Nothing extraordinary about it. The man had hardly gone a day without looking at it in seven years. This small memory, captured years before, was all that remained of his shattered past. It was all that was left of the life he had once known. Since that fateful day seven years ago, Alex Lordon had kept it safe, to remind him of his mission. He sat with his hands folded in his lap, and looked at the faces in the picture. These were his family. His wife and children. Why would someone do this to them? What was the reason? He was determined to find the answers.
A sound from outside his window stopped his train of thought. The wind outside was blowing, and something had fallen. He knew what it meant in an instant. He rose from the bed and grabbed the picture from the nightstand. He opened the drawer and snatched up his gun and knife. He rushed to a suitcase that sat in the corner of his room, and hurriedly shoved the items inside. In moments he was at the door. There wasn’t a second to waste. They were coming again, and he had to escape.
Once he was out of the room, he broke into a full run, dragging the suitcase behind him. He had to leave. Had to get as far away from this place as he possibly could. All he could hear was the pounding of his feet against the asphalt, and the wind whistling all around him. He knew they were following him. He had to get away, as far away as he possibly could. He dashed past the check out office, and into the deserted streets. The light had left the sky by now, and he was running out of time.
On the other side of the street was a parking lot full of cars. He ran forward, barely escaping an oncoming car. He ran along the rows and tried to fight off his panic. Not much time left. He found a suitable car, and pulled a screwdriver from his pocket. In seconds he was inside. He soon had td the car hotwired, and pressed the pedal to test. As soon as he heard the engine, he stomped on the pedal and raced from the parking lot. Once the town was behind him, he let out a sigh of relief. Another night had fallen, and once again he was safe.
He hated this. He was a family man. He lived in a good neighborhood, raised two boys, watched football on Sundays. He didn’t spend his days stealing cars, staying in cheap motels, and running like a frightened animal. He was a good man, not a criminal. They did this to him. They destroyed his life. He was on the run now, but not forever. He was going to strike back. He would avenge himself.
The road was long and straight, and for miles he didn’t pass a single car. He tried to focus, but nevertheless his mind began to drift. It drifted back across the years, to that very afternoon. He could see their smiling faces as if they were still there, and he could smell the summer breeze in the air. They had gone to the lake for a day, to relax and fish. It had been a great day, full of joy and laughter. That night, he had gotten a call from a friend, and had to leave tem for the night. What he saw when he came home was more horrible then he thought a thing could be.
He remembered how his heart had dropped into his stomach as he drove up to his house, and saw it surrounded by police cars. The police had stopped him, and told him to wait outside. He told them he was the home owner, and they began to ask questions. Where were you tonight? Do you know why we’re here? Strange questions he couldn’t answer. He demanded to know what was happening. Again and again they ducked the question, and by the time they told him, he had already realized that his worst fear had come true.
“Sir, I’m afraid there’s been a murder here.” The words felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He dropped to his knees, and the tears began to flow. This couldn’t be happening. It was a dream. It had to be a dream. But it wasn‘t a dream. For a long time, he couldn’t bring himself to stand. The officer looked at the broken man, and offer a hand to help him up. Alex stood up on his own. “I know how you must be feeling right now,” he said, “but we need you to identify the body.” The policeman lead him inside the house, and into the living room. The floor was covered in blood, and a gruesome trail lead down the hall, to the bedrooms. The sight made him sick.
As the officer opened the door, he revealed he true horror of the scene. On the bed, his wife was lying, blood dripping from her neck. Her throat had been slit, and there were stab wounds on her body. Alex could look no longer. He turned for the door and stopped on the spot. The officer looked at him. “It says in your files that you have two sons, but neither one is here. We are acting under the assumption that they have been kidnapped. We are doing the best we can to find them.” Alex nodded blankly. He was only partially listening to the officer. Something had caught his eye when he had turned around.
It was hanging from the doorknob, tied to it by the tail. A little white mouse, dead and with gouged out eyes. It was so small that he nearly didn’t notice it there. He had seen it only by chance, but now he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. There had to be a reason for it to be there. It was a clue, the only clue he had. When the officer stopped talking, he reached the doorknob and opened the door, taking the mouse at the same time. He would find who did this. That was the first thought in his mind. At that moment he could think of nothing else.
That night was only the beginning. In the following days he was questioned, accused, and ultimately forced to run from the law or be put in prison for killing his wife. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to find the killer. Find his sons. So he ran. He ran and never stopped running. Since that day he had been searching for something. And he had found it. But his mission wasn’t over. The rules had changed. He was no longer looking for something. Something was looking for him.
It was a week after the death of his wife that things once more took a turn for the worse. Alex hadn’t heard from the police since the night of the murder, so when two officers showed up at his door, he had hopes that it was to say they’d found his sons. The true reason for their coming was not nearly as pleasant. They came into his house, and in no time he could feel a sense of hostility from them. It wasn’t very long before the purpose of the visit was made clear. One officer, who seemed a bit older to Alex, began to speak in serious tones. “Hello, Mr. Lordon. We are sorry for the inconvenience, but my partner and I would like to ask you some questions. I‘m Officer Fowler, and this is Officer Duncan”
Here the second cop chimed in, his tone more conversational than his superior’s. Alex only now recognized the second officer as the man who had shown him the body of his wife. “It’s about what happened to your wife. We just want to get some details on where you might have been that night.” Immediately, Alex knew that he was a suspect. The thought disgusted him. He had an alibi for that night, so he would tell them and be done with it. “Start at the beginning please. Anything you can remember may be helpful.”
Alex looked up at them with a defeated expression. “I wasn’t home that night. I had a call from a friend, and had to leave.” His voice lacked all life. It was as if he himself had died that night, something he wished for. It was preferable to this. He had to remind himself why he couldn’t die. “Anything else, Officers?” Officer Fowler wore a scowl, and Alex could see the explanation didn’t satisfy him. Officer Duncan simply looked at him with an expression of sympathy. He wasn’t sure which one was worse.
“And can we talk to this friend of yours?” Officer Fowler asked. “We need a name, Mr. Lordon. You don’t seem to grasp the severity of your situation.” The room suddenly went quiet. Alex looked taken aback by such a blatant accusation, and Officer Duncan was almost as surprised as he was. “We have a murder investigation being conducted, Mr. Lordon, and the victim is your wife. We know from questioning neighbors that the two of you were having problems, so you can either talk to us, or talk to our friends down town.”
Alex felt the anger rise inside him, and before he could stop himself, He was on his feet and advancing on the older officer. The man’s partner jumped up immediately and stopped him in his tracks. “Please have a seat, Mr. Lordon,” Officer Duncan said, holding his by the shoulder to keep his from Officer Fowler. While his anger had not subsided, he knew well enough that he was already in trouble. He had no need to make more.
He let out a sigh, and took a seat. “Her name is Jennifer Wells. She’s a friend of mine. I was on my way home when she called me and asked for help.” He wasn’t sure how smart it would be to say anything more than that. He could see that the officers were not yet done. It wasn’t until nearly an hour later that they finally left. He had bent truths, withheld information, and flat out lied, but he had kept Jennifer’s secret. That was the important thing.
From that day on, he could tell he was being watched. He would see the police everywhere he went, and would sometimes catch glimpses of Fowler and Duncan from the corner of his eye. He was a suspect in the murder of his own wife. Maybe even the only suspect. His sons were missing, and the police were too busy watching him to find them. He thought by that point that it couldn’t get any worse. It wasn’t long before he realized how wrong he was.
It was three days after the interrogation when a squad car appeared outside of his door. From within, three officers, fowler among them, leapt from the doors and rushed to the house. Fowler raised the megaphone he’d been carrying to his mouth and shouted for Alex to hear. ”Alex Lordon, you are under arrest for the murder of Alice Lordon and Jennifer Wells Please come out with your hands up, or we will be forced to come in.”
Alex felt hiss whole body lurch, and the feeling of horror he had the night his wife had died returned to him. First his wife and children, and now Jenny too? It was too much for him. For that moment, sanity left him, and he rushed in a panic out of the kitchen where he was preparing dinner, not letting go of the knife, and into his bedroom. He snatched up a suitcase and furiously threw clothes into it, along with the family picture on his dresser. He went into his dresser and pulled out a handgun he’d bought for defense. He could hear the cops preparing to break and enter, so he took a deep breath, and looked forward at his bedroom window.
What happened next was a blur of pound and speed. His feet pounded the floor as he raced toward the window, dragging the suitcase with him. He braced himself with his free hand, and ran just as fast as he possibly could toward the window. From the front of the house he could hear the loud cracking of wood that meant the were coming in, but before the thought really registered in his mind, he jumped up, and collided at full speed with the hard glass.
Pain shot through his whole body as the glass shattered at the blow. He landed hard in the dirt, with all the cops in the house behind him. He struggled to his feet and raised the gun defensively in front of him before he took off running again. Behind him he could here Fowler shouting for them to chase after him. Alex ran like a mad man, ducking behind cars and houses. Once or twice a bullet whistled past his head. In front of his was a house, and in the driveway was a large SUV with a man just getting out. Alex raised his gun and fired a warning shot as he ran to the car. He jumped forward and grabbed the felling man. “ I don’t want to hurt you, but I need those keys.’
“Okay, okay, but don’t hurt me! I have a wife and kids.” Tears ran down Alex’s face as the panicked man forced the keys into his hand. He took them and jumped inside the car. He started the car, turned it to face the cops now only feet away, and floored the gas pedal. The lucky officers managed to jump out of the way, and Alex spent many nights trying to forget the crunching noises made by the less fortunate. Alex raced as fast as the car would take him out of town, pursued by police the entire way. As he left the houses behind for trees, he veered off the road and lost them in the woods.
With that escape, the transformation was complete. Alex Lordon, average family man, had become a fugitive from the law, accused of the murder of his own wife and friend. He was a man who had lost everything, and he was determined to find out why. That night he slept in the SUV, dreaming of the family he had vowed to avenge.
Mike Duncan looked firmly at the man standing across from him. Bill Fowler, his superior, was glaring intensely at the young officer. “No can do, Sir.” Duncan’s voice was stern and confident. “I am sorry, but I don’t think we have enough evidence to make this kind of move.” Duncan couldn’t believe his own words. Was he really going to risk his life for a stranger like Alex Lordon? If he thought it would serve justice, in a second.
Fowler’s eyes burrowed into the younger man. “ You are out of line, Duncan. If the chief were hearing this, you’d be off the force.” The older man was fuming with anger. Who did Duncan think he was? That rookie couldn’t catch a cold, let alone a killer. Partnering with him was just downright disgraceful for a senior officer like Bill Fowler. “And Don’t talk to me about evidence, green horn! We have two missing children , a dead wife, and a bad marriage. Not to mention that little surprise we got when we checked up his little alibi.”
Duncan’s face fell at the mention of the events from last night. He had to admit that it looked bad for Mr. Lordon. It had started when he went to pay Jennifer Wells a visit to ask some questions. He went looking for a lead, but all he found was another horror show. Blood was everywhere, and there was a body in the bedroom. Looked just like the scene at the Lordon house. Only difference ifs they couldn’t get a positive ID on the body. For someone you could find in any phone book, Jennifer Wells was quite the recluse. No living family, employers or customers, and none of the neighbors ever saw her.
Those same factors narrowed down suspects. No one knew her well enough to have a motive. Alex admitted he was there the night she died, and fowler was right to say that was enough evidence to take him in. still, something felt off. He knew it was stupid to trust his instinct s over evidence, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know how to prove it, but Alex Lordon was innocent. “ If you do make this sting, bill, don’t expect me to be in on it. I Will not put an innocent man in prison.”
“You really think that’s what I’m doing, rookie? You aren’t worth taking with me!” Officer Fowler left the station n a huff, leaving Mike Duncan standing alone. He didn’t know if this was the right decision, but it was the one he had made. He took a seat on a nearby chair, and thought back to the scene at Jennifer Wells’ home, and to the very moment he knew that Alex Lordon was innocent.
He still remembered the blood. He didn’t think that he would ever forget the blood, even if he lived to be a hundred years old. It was like the Lordon house all over again. It was on the floor, the walls, everywhere. Finally he couldn’t look at her any longer. He turned around and went to leave the scene, but suddenly he heard something fall behind him.
He spun on his heels, and saw that a picture frame had fallen. He bent down and picked it up. Suddenly, another object fell. This time a book from the bookshelf in the corner. Then another book fell, and another. Now the room began to shake, and Officer Duncan hit the ground, thinking it was an earthquake. Soon objects were flying across the room, and there was pandemonium. The lamp fell from the nightstand and broke on the ground. A fire started as the bulb broke, and Duncan tried to run for the door. Objects pelted him from behind.
Then he saw it. A tiny object hanging from the doorknob. A tiny white mouse was nailed in place, and it’s eyes had been gouged out. The tiny creature was all but skeletal, and seemed to have died quite some time ago. If that was the case, the why was it’s leg twitching. Duncan stopped for a moment, transfixed, as the little creature began to squirm and move. The heat of the fire brought back his senses, and mike Duncan rushed forward and grabbed the struggling creature, ripping it from the door. Instantly it was still. A moment later, Duncan realized that the fire had stopped. He turned around, and saw the room was just as it had been when he arrived. It was as if the fire and the falling objects had never happened.
He never told his superiors what had happened, but at that moment he knew that Alex Lordon could not be guilty. Whatever had killed those women, it couldn’t have been him. It was something much worse. And if his experience was anything to go by, it wasn’t yet over. Something was going on, and he wanted to know what. All he knew was that Alex Lordon could help him. He was the only one who could help him. And he was on his way to a cell right now.
Officer Duncan pulled the mouse out of his pocket, and ran his eyes over it. This was a clue. It was the only clue he had. He couldn’t lose it. He had to hold onto it no matter what. Mike Duncan stood up and went to the door. He could at least check on Bill. He had to know when Lordon was in custody. He left the building, got into his car, and drove off toward the Lordon residence.
As the house came into view, Duncan began to get a sinking feeling. The capture should have been done by now. The scene was instead one of a large, disorganized mob searched the house while Officer Fowler shouted into a two way radio. He parked his car and jogged up to his partner. Fowler was shouting at him before Duncan had a chance to speak.
“Well what do you know? The greenhorn decides to show!” His tone was intentionally nasty, and Duncan knew it. “Well, it’s too little, too late. Your friend got away.” Shock spread over Officer Duncan’s face. Within himself, he felt a slight relief. IF he could find him before the police, then Lordon could help him.
In just over a week, Alex Lordon’s life had been turned upside down. His wife and best friend were dead, his children were missing and he was accused of the crimes. He was on the run from the police, living out of a stolen SUV. He couldn’t been caught. There was no way he could let himself be caught. But to stay on the run, he had to keep moving. This thought was all that got him moving the day after he escaped the police. He had to find a town, and more importantly a place to stay.
He knew there was a town just a bit north of him, and it was small enough to hide in. He could stay there for a night, but he would need a new car the next day. He couldn’t allow himself to be tracked down. It meant he had to steal again, which he hated. It couldn’t be helped. He sat up and looked at the dashboard of the SUV. Scrap papers, some letters, a bill and some money he had found were lying on it. He had searched the car before he went to sleep. The money wasn’t much, but it may pay for one night in a cheap Motel. Food was another matter, but that would have to wait.
He sat up in the driver’s seat and turned the key, beginning his search for the little town. He soon found the main road in a few minutes, and drove north. His whole world felt fake, like a dream he couldn’t wake up from. Nothing felt real but the pain he in his heart. He drove down the road in something of a haze, trying is best to concentrate on what he was doing. It wasn’t too long before the town was in view. It was a tiny place, but it had a motel which was all he needed. This was the type of place he had to get used to, living on the run.
He parking in front of the Motel, and walked in, still only half aware of himself. His clothing was ripped and bloody, but he didn’t care. He wanted to get a room, and sort things out. He walked into the little front office, and immediately drew the eyes of the woman behind the counter. His appearance made her nervous, but he didn’t care. He walked to the desk and dropped the money onto the counter. “I’d like a room for one night.”
The woman looked at him uncomfortably for a few moments, and then tentatively reached out and took the money if front of her. “Umm, well, yes sir. We have a room available. Let me get the key.” She turned away and was soon back with the room key in her had. She gave it to him and told him it was just off to the right of the office. He left the office, and began to move his things from the SUV to his motel room. He was done in only three trips.
He came in for the last time and shut the door behind him, taking a breath to steady himself. It was time to get started. He went to his bags and took out some things, which he spread across the top of a desk in the corner of the room. He stared at the objects, running his eyes from one to the others. A picture of his wife and children, a book of notes, a few newspaper clippings about the murder, and the dead mouse he found at the scene. These were all he had to go by at the moment, but they had to be enough. He took up a pen that was on the desk, and started to write some more notes. He looked at each of the items, analyzed them, wrote down anything important.
The Notebook was filling fast. He had a description of the scene, and a detailed description of his wife and children. Now he wrote the key points of the articles, and the names of those who had written them. He wrote in the names of Officer Duncan and Officer Fowler, and wrote a description of Jenny. He had to know everyone connected to the case as well as he could. When this was done, he turned to the mouse. This was the most enigmatic of his clues, but he had to keep note of it. There had to be a reason for it.
He took up his pen, and wrote a few lines to describe the creature. Small, white, and with no eyes. It was apparently long dead, with skin clinging to it’s ribs. There was little more of note, except that it had been hung on his door when his wife was killed. He put his pen down and went over his notes. He was in the middle of reading when a small noise made him look up. What he saw was beyond what he could understand. The mouse was beginning to twitch.
He reached out to grab it, but before he could it has off and running toward the door. Before he could catch it, he was caught off guard by the sound of the tableside lamp falling. Soon the room was in chaos as more objects began to fly around the room. He soon realized that the things were pelting the mouse. He ducked out of the way as broken glass, the note book, and loose clothing all flew at the mouse. He could simply not believe what was happening.
What happened next was almost to fast to process. There was a loud bang as the door was kicked in and someone entered. In one fluid motion they plucked up the mouse and narrowly avoided the glass. The intruder mumbled something he couldn’t hear, and the room was suddenly just as it had been. She walked to the bed, and sat down beside the shocked Alex. He knew who she was as soon as he saw her long brown hair and square rimmed glasses. He had never been happier to see her before. “Jenny,” He said it a muted tone. “You’re alive.”
“Thank you for noticing,” she said, before she got up and waked toward the door. “ I’ll be right back with my things.” Alex didn’t know what to say. His mind had never been quite so burnt out. He fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He heard jenny reenter with a few bags. “We need to talk.” Understatement of the year.
By JJ1027
Synopsis:
Three lost people, each one searching for what is important to them in a strange new world, wrought by a common tragedy.
Three separate paths, intertwining as they all flee from a common force, united by one enemy none can overcome alone.
Three people with three things to search for. One seeking vengeance, one seeking justice, and one seeking herself.
Three blind mice. See how they run.
__________________________________________________ _____________________________________
It was nothing special really. Just an old picture in a worn down frame, sitting on top of the motel nightstand. It was a normal picture, just a man, his wife, and two kids. Nothing extraordinary about it. The man had hardly gone a day without looking at it in seven years. This small memory, captured years before, was all that remained of his shattered past. It was all that was left of the life he had once known. Since that fateful day seven years ago, Alex Lordon had kept it safe, to remind him of his mission. He sat with his hands folded in his lap, and looked at the faces in the picture. These were his family. His wife and children. Why would someone do this to them? What was the reason? He was determined to find the answers.
A sound from outside his window stopped his train of thought. The wind outside was blowing, and something had fallen. He knew what it meant in an instant. He rose from the bed and grabbed the picture from the nightstand. He opened the drawer and snatched up his gun and knife. He rushed to a suitcase that sat in the corner of his room, and hurriedly shoved the items inside. In moments he was at the door. There wasn’t a second to waste. They were coming again, and he had to escape.
Once he was out of the room, he broke into a full run, dragging the suitcase behind him. He had to leave. Had to get as far away from this place as he possibly could. All he could hear was the pounding of his feet against the asphalt, and the wind whistling all around him. He knew they were following him. He had to get away, as far away as he possibly could. He dashed past the check out office, and into the deserted streets. The light had left the sky by now, and he was running out of time.
On the other side of the street was a parking lot full of cars. He ran forward, barely escaping an oncoming car. He ran along the rows and tried to fight off his panic. Not much time left. He found a suitable car, and pulled a screwdriver from his pocket. In seconds he was inside. He soon had td the car hotwired, and pressed the pedal to test. As soon as he heard the engine, he stomped on the pedal and raced from the parking lot. Once the town was behind him, he let out a sigh of relief. Another night had fallen, and once again he was safe.
He hated this. He was a family man. He lived in a good neighborhood, raised two boys, watched football on Sundays. He didn’t spend his days stealing cars, staying in cheap motels, and running like a frightened animal. He was a good man, not a criminal. They did this to him. They destroyed his life. He was on the run now, but not forever. He was going to strike back. He would avenge himself.
The road was long and straight, and for miles he didn’t pass a single car. He tried to focus, but nevertheless his mind began to drift. It drifted back across the years, to that very afternoon. He could see their smiling faces as if they were still there, and he could smell the summer breeze in the air. They had gone to the lake for a day, to relax and fish. It had been a great day, full of joy and laughter. That night, he had gotten a call from a friend, and had to leave tem for the night. What he saw when he came home was more horrible then he thought a thing could be.
He remembered how his heart had dropped into his stomach as he drove up to his house, and saw it surrounded by police cars. The police had stopped him, and told him to wait outside. He told them he was the home owner, and they began to ask questions. Where were you tonight? Do you know why we’re here? Strange questions he couldn’t answer. He demanded to know what was happening. Again and again they ducked the question, and by the time they told him, he had already realized that his worst fear had come true.
“Sir, I’m afraid there’s been a murder here.” The words felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He dropped to his knees, and the tears began to flow. This couldn’t be happening. It was a dream. It had to be a dream. But it wasn‘t a dream. For a long time, he couldn’t bring himself to stand. The officer looked at the broken man, and offer a hand to help him up. Alex stood up on his own. “I know how you must be feeling right now,” he said, “but we need you to identify the body.” The policeman lead him inside the house, and into the living room. The floor was covered in blood, and a gruesome trail lead down the hall, to the bedrooms. The sight made him sick.
As the officer opened the door, he revealed he true horror of the scene. On the bed, his wife was lying, blood dripping from her neck. Her throat had been slit, and there were stab wounds on her body. Alex could look no longer. He turned for the door and stopped on the spot. The officer looked at him. “It says in your files that you have two sons, but neither one is here. We are acting under the assumption that they have been kidnapped. We are doing the best we can to find them.” Alex nodded blankly. He was only partially listening to the officer. Something had caught his eye when he had turned around.
It was hanging from the doorknob, tied to it by the tail. A little white mouse, dead and with gouged out eyes. It was so small that he nearly didn’t notice it there. He had seen it only by chance, but now he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. There had to be a reason for it to be there. It was a clue, the only clue he had. When the officer stopped talking, he reached the doorknob and opened the door, taking the mouse at the same time. He would find who did this. That was the first thought in his mind. At that moment he could think of nothing else.
That night was only the beginning. In the following days he was questioned, accused, and ultimately forced to run from the law or be put in prison for killing his wife. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to find the killer. Find his sons. So he ran. He ran and never stopped running. Since that day he had been searching for something. And he had found it. But his mission wasn’t over. The rules had changed. He was no longer looking for something. Something was looking for him.
It was a week after the death of his wife that things once more took a turn for the worse. Alex hadn’t heard from the police since the night of the murder, so when two officers showed up at his door, he had hopes that it was to say they’d found his sons. The true reason for their coming was not nearly as pleasant. They came into his house, and in no time he could feel a sense of hostility from them. It wasn’t very long before the purpose of the visit was made clear. One officer, who seemed a bit older to Alex, began to speak in serious tones. “Hello, Mr. Lordon. We are sorry for the inconvenience, but my partner and I would like to ask you some questions. I‘m Officer Fowler, and this is Officer Duncan”
Here the second cop chimed in, his tone more conversational than his superior’s. Alex only now recognized the second officer as the man who had shown him the body of his wife. “It’s about what happened to your wife. We just want to get some details on where you might have been that night.” Immediately, Alex knew that he was a suspect. The thought disgusted him. He had an alibi for that night, so he would tell them and be done with it. “Start at the beginning please. Anything you can remember may be helpful.”
Alex looked up at them with a defeated expression. “I wasn’t home that night. I had a call from a friend, and had to leave.” His voice lacked all life. It was as if he himself had died that night, something he wished for. It was preferable to this. He had to remind himself why he couldn’t die. “Anything else, Officers?” Officer Fowler wore a scowl, and Alex could see the explanation didn’t satisfy him. Officer Duncan simply looked at him with an expression of sympathy. He wasn’t sure which one was worse.
“And can we talk to this friend of yours?” Officer Fowler asked. “We need a name, Mr. Lordon. You don’t seem to grasp the severity of your situation.” The room suddenly went quiet. Alex looked taken aback by such a blatant accusation, and Officer Duncan was almost as surprised as he was. “We have a murder investigation being conducted, Mr. Lordon, and the victim is your wife. We know from questioning neighbors that the two of you were having problems, so you can either talk to us, or talk to our friends down town.”
Alex felt the anger rise inside him, and before he could stop himself, He was on his feet and advancing on the older officer. The man’s partner jumped up immediately and stopped him in his tracks. “Please have a seat, Mr. Lordon,” Officer Duncan said, holding his by the shoulder to keep his from Officer Fowler. While his anger had not subsided, he knew well enough that he was already in trouble. He had no need to make more.
He let out a sigh, and took a seat. “Her name is Jennifer Wells. She’s a friend of mine. I was on my way home when she called me and asked for help.” He wasn’t sure how smart it would be to say anything more than that. He could see that the officers were not yet done. It wasn’t until nearly an hour later that they finally left. He had bent truths, withheld information, and flat out lied, but he had kept Jennifer’s secret. That was the important thing.
From that day on, he could tell he was being watched. He would see the police everywhere he went, and would sometimes catch glimpses of Fowler and Duncan from the corner of his eye. He was a suspect in the murder of his own wife. Maybe even the only suspect. His sons were missing, and the police were too busy watching him to find them. He thought by that point that it couldn’t get any worse. It wasn’t long before he realized how wrong he was.
It was three days after the interrogation when a squad car appeared outside of his door. From within, three officers, fowler among them, leapt from the doors and rushed to the house. Fowler raised the megaphone he’d been carrying to his mouth and shouted for Alex to hear. ”Alex Lordon, you are under arrest for the murder of Alice Lordon and Jennifer Wells Please come out with your hands up, or we will be forced to come in.”
Alex felt hiss whole body lurch, and the feeling of horror he had the night his wife had died returned to him. First his wife and children, and now Jenny too? It was too much for him. For that moment, sanity left him, and he rushed in a panic out of the kitchen where he was preparing dinner, not letting go of the knife, and into his bedroom. He snatched up a suitcase and furiously threw clothes into it, along with the family picture on his dresser. He went into his dresser and pulled out a handgun he’d bought for defense. He could hear the cops preparing to break and enter, so he took a deep breath, and looked forward at his bedroom window.
What happened next was a blur of pound and speed. His feet pounded the floor as he raced toward the window, dragging the suitcase with him. He braced himself with his free hand, and ran just as fast as he possibly could toward the window. From the front of the house he could hear the loud cracking of wood that meant the were coming in, but before the thought really registered in his mind, he jumped up, and collided at full speed with the hard glass.
Pain shot through his whole body as the glass shattered at the blow. He landed hard in the dirt, with all the cops in the house behind him. He struggled to his feet and raised the gun defensively in front of him before he took off running again. Behind him he could here Fowler shouting for them to chase after him. Alex ran like a mad man, ducking behind cars and houses. Once or twice a bullet whistled past his head. In front of his was a house, and in the driveway was a large SUV with a man just getting out. Alex raised his gun and fired a warning shot as he ran to the car. He jumped forward and grabbed the felling man. “ I don’t want to hurt you, but I need those keys.’
“Okay, okay, but don’t hurt me! I have a wife and kids.” Tears ran down Alex’s face as the panicked man forced the keys into his hand. He took them and jumped inside the car. He started the car, turned it to face the cops now only feet away, and floored the gas pedal. The lucky officers managed to jump out of the way, and Alex spent many nights trying to forget the crunching noises made by the less fortunate. Alex raced as fast as the car would take him out of town, pursued by police the entire way. As he left the houses behind for trees, he veered off the road and lost them in the woods.
With that escape, the transformation was complete. Alex Lordon, average family man, had become a fugitive from the law, accused of the murder of his own wife and friend. He was a man who had lost everything, and he was determined to find out why. That night he slept in the SUV, dreaming of the family he had vowed to avenge.
Mike Duncan looked firmly at the man standing across from him. Bill Fowler, his superior, was glaring intensely at the young officer. “No can do, Sir.” Duncan’s voice was stern and confident. “I am sorry, but I don’t think we have enough evidence to make this kind of move.” Duncan couldn’t believe his own words. Was he really going to risk his life for a stranger like Alex Lordon? If he thought it would serve justice, in a second.
Fowler’s eyes burrowed into the younger man. “ You are out of line, Duncan. If the chief were hearing this, you’d be off the force.” The older man was fuming with anger. Who did Duncan think he was? That rookie couldn’t catch a cold, let alone a killer. Partnering with him was just downright disgraceful for a senior officer like Bill Fowler. “And Don’t talk to me about evidence, green horn! We have two missing children , a dead wife, and a bad marriage. Not to mention that little surprise we got when we checked up his little alibi.”
Duncan’s face fell at the mention of the events from last night. He had to admit that it looked bad for Mr. Lordon. It had started when he went to pay Jennifer Wells a visit to ask some questions. He went looking for a lead, but all he found was another horror show. Blood was everywhere, and there was a body in the bedroom. Looked just like the scene at the Lordon house. Only difference ifs they couldn’t get a positive ID on the body. For someone you could find in any phone book, Jennifer Wells was quite the recluse. No living family, employers or customers, and none of the neighbors ever saw her.
Those same factors narrowed down suspects. No one knew her well enough to have a motive. Alex admitted he was there the night she died, and fowler was right to say that was enough evidence to take him in. still, something felt off. He knew it was stupid to trust his instinct s over evidence, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know how to prove it, but Alex Lordon was innocent. “ If you do make this sting, bill, don’t expect me to be in on it. I Will not put an innocent man in prison.”
“You really think that’s what I’m doing, rookie? You aren’t worth taking with me!” Officer Fowler left the station n a huff, leaving Mike Duncan standing alone. He didn’t know if this was the right decision, but it was the one he had made. He took a seat on a nearby chair, and thought back to the scene at Jennifer Wells’ home, and to the very moment he knew that Alex Lordon was innocent.
He still remembered the blood. He didn’t think that he would ever forget the blood, even if he lived to be a hundred years old. It was like the Lordon house all over again. It was on the floor, the walls, everywhere. Finally he couldn’t look at her any longer. He turned around and went to leave the scene, but suddenly he heard something fall behind him.
He spun on his heels, and saw that a picture frame had fallen. He bent down and picked it up. Suddenly, another object fell. This time a book from the bookshelf in the corner. Then another book fell, and another. Now the room began to shake, and Officer Duncan hit the ground, thinking it was an earthquake. Soon objects were flying across the room, and there was pandemonium. The lamp fell from the nightstand and broke on the ground. A fire started as the bulb broke, and Duncan tried to run for the door. Objects pelted him from behind.
Then he saw it. A tiny object hanging from the doorknob. A tiny white mouse was nailed in place, and it’s eyes had been gouged out. The tiny creature was all but skeletal, and seemed to have died quite some time ago. If that was the case, the why was it’s leg twitching. Duncan stopped for a moment, transfixed, as the little creature began to squirm and move. The heat of the fire brought back his senses, and mike Duncan rushed forward and grabbed the struggling creature, ripping it from the door. Instantly it was still. A moment later, Duncan realized that the fire had stopped. He turned around, and saw the room was just as it had been when he arrived. It was as if the fire and the falling objects had never happened.
He never told his superiors what had happened, but at that moment he knew that Alex Lordon could not be guilty. Whatever had killed those women, it couldn’t have been him. It was something much worse. And if his experience was anything to go by, it wasn’t yet over. Something was going on, and he wanted to know what. All he knew was that Alex Lordon could help him. He was the only one who could help him. And he was on his way to a cell right now.
Officer Duncan pulled the mouse out of his pocket, and ran his eyes over it. This was a clue. It was the only clue he had. He couldn’t lose it. He had to hold onto it no matter what. Mike Duncan stood up and went to the door. He could at least check on Bill. He had to know when Lordon was in custody. He left the building, got into his car, and drove off toward the Lordon residence.
As the house came into view, Duncan began to get a sinking feeling. The capture should have been done by now. The scene was instead one of a large, disorganized mob searched the house while Officer Fowler shouted into a two way radio. He parked his car and jogged up to his partner. Fowler was shouting at him before Duncan had a chance to speak.
“Well what do you know? The greenhorn decides to show!” His tone was intentionally nasty, and Duncan knew it. “Well, it’s too little, too late. Your friend got away.” Shock spread over Officer Duncan’s face. Within himself, he felt a slight relief. IF he could find him before the police, then Lordon could help him.
In just over a week, Alex Lordon’s life had been turned upside down. His wife and best friend were dead, his children were missing and he was accused of the crimes. He was on the run from the police, living out of a stolen SUV. He couldn’t been caught. There was no way he could let himself be caught. But to stay on the run, he had to keep moving. This thought was all that got him moving the day after he escaped the police. He had to find a town, and more importantly a place to stay.
He knew there was a town just a bit north of him, and it was small enough to hide in. He could stay there for a night, but he would need a new car the next day. He couldn’t allow himself to be tracked down. It meant he had to steal again, which he hated. It couldn’t be helped. He sat up and looked at the dashboard of the SUV. Scrap papers, some letters, a bill and some money he had found were lying on it. He had searched the car before he went to sleep. The money wasn’t much, but it may pay for one night in a cheap Motel. Food was another matter, but that would have to wait.
He sat up in the driver’s seat and turned the key, beginning his search for the little town. He soon found the main road in a few minutes, and drove north. His whole world felt fake, like a dream he couldn’t wake up from. Nothing felt real but the pain he in his heart. He drove down the road in something of a haze, trying is best to concentrate on what he was doing. It wasn’t too long before the town was in view. It was a tiny place, but it had a motel which was all he needed. This was the type of place he had to get used to, living on the run.
He parking in front of the Motel, and walked in, still only half aware of himself. His clothing was ripped and bloody, but he didn’t care. He wanted to get a room, and sort things out. He walked into the little front office, and immediately drew the eyes of the woman behind the counter. His appearance made her nervous, but he didn’t care. He walked to the desk and dropped the money onto the counter. “I’d like a room for one night.”
The woman looked at him uncomfortably for a few moments, and then tentatively reached out and took the money if front of her. “Umm, well, yes sir. We have a room available. Let me get the key.” She turned away and was soon back with the room key in her had. She gave it to him and told him it was just off to the right of the office. He left the office, and began to move his things from the SUV to his motel room. He was done in only three trips.
He came in for the last time and shut the door behind him, taking a breath to steady himself. It was time to get started. He went to his bags and took out some things, which he spread across the top of a desk in the corner of the room. He stared at the objects, running his eyes from one to the others. A picture of his wife and children, a book of notes, a few newspaper clippings about the murder, and the dead mouse he found at the scene. These were all he had to go by at the moment, but they had to be enough. He took up a pen that was on the desk, and started to write some more notes. He looked at each of the items, analyzed them, wrote down anything important.
The Notebook was filling fast. He had a description of the scene, and a detailed description of his wife and children. Now he wrote the key points of the articles, and the names of those who had written them. He wrote in the names of Officer Duncan and Officer Fowler, and wrote a description of Jenny. He had to know everyone connected to the case as well as he could. When this was done, he turned to the mouse. This was the most enigmatic of his clues, but he had to keep note of it. There had to be a reason for it.
He took up his pen, and wrote a few lines to describe the creature. Small, white, and with no eyes. It was apparently long dead, with skin clinging to it’s ribs. There was little more of note, except that it had been hung on his door when his wife was killed. He put his pen down and went over his notes. He was in the middle of reading when a small noise made him look up. What he saw was beyond what he could understand. The mouse was beginning to twitch.
He reached out to grab it, but before he could it has off and running toward the door. Before he could catch it, he was caught off guard by the sound of the tableside lamp falling. Soon the room was in chaos as more objects began to fly around the room. He soon realized that the things were pelting the mouse. He ducked out of the way as broken glass, the note book, and loose clothing all flew at the mouse. He could simply not believe what was happening.
What happened next was almost to fast to process. There was a loud bang as the door was kicked in and someone entered. In one fluid motion they plucked up the mouse and narrowly avoided the glass. The intruder mumbled something he couldn’t hear, and the room was suddenly just as it had been. She walked to the bed, and sat down beside the shocked Alex. He knew who she was as soon as he saw her long brown hair and square rimmed glasses. He had never been happier to see her before. “Jenny,” He said it a muted tone. “You’re alive.”
“Thank you for noticing,” she said, before she got up and waked toward the door. “ I’ll be right back with my things.” Alex didn’t know what to say. His mind had never been quite so burnt out. He fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He heard jenny reenter with a few bags. “We need to talk.” Understatement of the year.