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“Yes, dear, that one. She told me all about it the other day and she seemed pretty happy. There’s more actually. His brothers fell in love with her, too,” Sarah said as she turned off the television set.
“Is she out of her mind? A ménage relationship with three men? This could ruin my election, this entire family,” he stated, concerned.
“Eric, it happens and the communities know these types of relationships exist. She’s in love and she’s happy for once in her life.”
“I’m not as accepting to this. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised that you’re so accepting.” He followed Sarah upstairs.
“I want Grace happy and to feel loved. If Sandman and his two brothers bring her that love and can do that for her, then God bless them.”
* * * *
It was after midnight and Grace couldn’t sleep. She entered Sandman’s office and turned on his laptop computer. She was hoping to take a look at the poems from the killer and had tried unsuccessfully to open the e-mail. After a while longer she sifted through the papers in his desk as her eyes lingered toward the locked drawer. She looked for a key but was unsuccessful as she grabbed the letter opener from the desk drawer. She knew she shouldn’t break into the drawer and that it was a desperate move.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she whispered to herself as she wiggled the letter opener around inside the lock hoping it would work. As she broke the letter opener and the lock simultaneously, she opened the drawer and was surprised at what she discovered.
“You printed them out, of course you did so that you could really look at them and analyze them.” She began to read the poems.
They were upsetting but she wanted to continue and she looked at them as a challenge.
When she came to the latest poem her heart ached.
My dearest Grace, a gift for thee,
I could have killed her so easily.
My God, he didn’t kill her because of me and he’s looking at it as if it’s a gift. Something so precious one might give to a lover, a special partner. There was nothing more sacred or more meaningful than life, one’s soul and spirit. Grace continued to read.
She’s not like you, none of them come close,
You’re the one I want, need, desire the most.
I will continue to pursue my hobby, my pleasure,
Until your safe return home, my love, my treasure.
He was threatening her, challenging her to confront him, come home out of hiding. He knew what kind of person she was and that was exactly what she would want to do. She didn’t want to show her fear or allow him to dominate her. The killer knew her and he knew her fairly well. He would have to know that she would analyze his poems, his words in attempt to try and figure out his identity.
“My love, my treasure,” he called her in his poem. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone. Sandman and his brothers were her only lovers, and there was no one she could think of that knew her and her family well enough to know everything about her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sandman said.
She screamed and nearly jumped out of the chair. “Damn it, you scared the hell out of me. Why did you do that?” she yelled at him as he took the papers out of her hand and eyed the broken lock on the desk drawer.
“Breaking and entering, huh? You know what I should do to you?” he scolded her as he turned her chair around to face him.
“I have a right to look at those poems, Sandman, and stopping me from looking at them is a crime of its own.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Look what you did to my desk, Grace. There was no need to sneak around in the middle of the night either,” he told her as he looked her in the eye.
“I wanted to see them, Sandman, and you denied me that right,” she began to say as he pulled her out of the chair and into his arms.
“I know that, Grace, that’s why I didn’t immediately follow you downstairs. I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave it alone as I asked. You should receive some form of punishment though,” he told her as she smiled and leaned closer.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” she asked him as he held her tighter.
“Well I’m a firm believer in capital punishment, but that seems a bit too extreme for such a minimal crime. However, I also believe in corporal punishment which might make you think twice before committing such a crime in the future.” He began to place her over his knee.
“You wouldn’t dare!” she yelled at him as she wiggled her way to the floor and Sandman quickly followed.
