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It wasn't just about some random stranger breaking and entering. Instead, we were dealing with an experienced, knowledgeable intruder who had access to my key code and the security system. I could feel the hairs on my neck standing up as the reality of what this meant began to sink in. "We'd better call Agent Carter. He's the lead detective on the Rosedale Case." I told Bruce. "But before we call Carter, I need to thoroughly search to see if anything is missing."
"Yes, yes. I think you're on the right track, Chase," Bruce agreed.
I started my search in the kitchen, and two hours later, I finished in my home theater. By then, Carter had arrived and was taking down Bruce’s statement. When he got to me, all I wanted was a shower and to get everyone out of my hair.... out of my life, even if it was just temporarily.
"Well, I've got nothing new to report. To my knowledge, nothing has been touched, taken, or rearranged," I directed my remarks to Carter, standing straight-faced with his hand on his hips.
"I've checked for prints on the lock and door handle... nothing but yours that are, of course, in our database."
"I didn't expect anything less. Now, if you fellows don't mind..." I gestured toward the door, "I'd like some privacy. The Steelers are in the playoffs, and the game starts in an hour."
Bruce took off in a hurry. I figured he was starving and would order a pizza or a sub sandwich and have it delivered to the lobby and probably drink a beer he had stowed somewhere. If I were inclined, I would have asked him to come back and watch the game with me, but tonight I was NOT so inclined. I wanted everyone out of my face!
I didn't like to think of myself as a pussy or scaredy-cat, but as soon as I entered my bedroom, I locked the door and hastened to my bathroom, where I did the same. Looking back, I couldn't recall a single time I had locked my bedroom, certainly not my bathroom. But my home had never been violated either.
One feature I had insisted on in my contract for the penthouse was a bathroom sauna, which I was using today. As the steam billowed from the jets, I felt my whole body relax. My breathing slowed, and I could feel the anxiety draining away, taking with it all the thoughts of what had happened earlier this afternoon. I soon realized that the game would start within a few minutes. When I hopped from the shower, I felt a bit sleepy. So, I dressed comfortably and grabbed a beer before heading to my home theater. Then, hoping to catch a few snippets of pre-game news, I switched on my wide-screen TV.
As opposed to the sports broadcaster I was expecting, what faced me was so horrifying that my mouth tightened in shock, and my stomach churned. The screen was illuminated with a single, larger-than-life image of a dead woman. Her bathrobe clashed against the starkness of her emaciated skin as her mouth hung wide, suspended in time amid a chilling scream. As the lens gradually zoomed in and tightened, the video revealed that what initially appeared to be a star on her neck was actually a tattoo.
"Chelsea," I gasped.
I stared, fixated on the video. An eerie tune assaulted my home theater with dread as I read the ominous message written in bold, crimson letters across my screen. I could scarcely believe what it said.
LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS...
I was so dizzy I thought I would pass out. My body felt weak, yet with every ounce of strength left in me, I managed to get ahold of my phone and reached out to Bruce for help. Fighting to stay focused, I barked, "Get your ass up here right now. I've made a discovery."
The next thing I knew, the room was flooded with police and CSI personnel, and a flurry of activity ensued. I watched from a distance as Carter directed a more in-depth investigation than the casual one earlier today.
"This ties in. I can feel it. This break-in is part of a larger scheme. We just haven't discovered what it is yet. The perp likes riddles, and this most definitely is another one,” I told anyone who would listen.
I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness as I looked on. But it wasn't until my gaze locked onto the lifeless body of Chelsea that the gravity of the situation finally hit me – and the magnitude of what had happened came crashing down upon my shoulders. A deep sadness swept over me as I came to terms with my reality.
It was my turn! Now, I was in the crosshairs of the assassin's scope!
Chapter One
Three Months Later
Meagan
"Tiramisu! Can we start with dessert?" Amy let out a melodic laugh, her sable hair cascading over her shoulders as she tucked it behind one ear.
"That's truly tempting, but I'm committed to my healthy diet," I sighed, reflecting on the grueling effort it took to add some muscle mass back into my skinny frame since that fateful.... incident.
"I should skip it, too. I'd probably just be disappointed. My mom's Italian and she adopted Granny's tiramisu recipe."
"And it's been passed down to you, hopefully?” I asked while I desperately gazed at her with puppy dog eyes.
"Of course...." Amy giggled as we settled in our corner booth, sitting across from each other. Initially, I was slightly bothered by the tinkling of the wind chimes that hung from the porch. But the more I listened to Amy chatting about her favorite and not-so-favorite professors, the less it seemed to bother me. The wind chimes’ inviting resonance transported me back a few months, allowing me to revisit a wispy memory of my time in rehab, inadvertently tuning out my friend.
There I was, laying groggily in my hospital bed at the rehab center. My first sensation of awareness had been that of a soothing wind chime just outside my window. Its calming melody broke through the fog and lulled me back into consciousness. Its jingle had sounded like colors... the colors of a rainbow morphing into a pastel cloud, enveloping me in its embrace.
"Are you alright?" Amy asked, touching my hand. "The waitress is...."
"Oh, oh, I'm sorry.... I'll take the chicken salad and a cup of butternut squash soup." I folded the menu and waited for the waitress to walk away before I whispered, "I think it's the meds. Sometimes I kinda get stuck."
Amy grabbed my hand. "Meagan you're doing so well. I'm just so glad we found each other. If your incident hadn't happened, we would have never met."
