November 15th
+1+
The house is upsettingly quiet now.
No longer could I hear the occasionally melody of the piano drifting through the open spaces. Not that it seemed to matter
Although I was aware of Mrs. Beck’s presence and the way she ambled around the house cleaning, cooking and asking the occasionally question, I remained lost to it all.
I imagined vividly the DeLune’s housekeeper shuffling through the daily mail and delivering Martin the envelope that contained his daughter’s fate. Perhaps it would take him some time to realize the writing on the back, I wondered how long it would take him to realize it was similar to his daughter’s handwriting, carefully copied from her letter still in my coat pocket.
Yeah, so apparently he can copy other people’s handwriting. Interesting. So now that Mr. F knows the family is poor he is going to pretend to be a kidnapper and demand money from Martin.
Martin will then ask Mr. F for the money and then suddenly the DeLune family is in debt to him.
Either way Martin would worry, concern himself as to how he would find the extra funds requested to ensure her safety.
Should he call the police ?
No, he had been warned.
He would instead refer back to the photograph. Did she appear dead or alive. And even more so what strange word stained his daughter’s skin? What did it mean ?
Revenge
How long would it take for him to search out his father for help ? Roger would know. Certainly Roger's mind was going but he could never forget what he wish to never remember. After all how many times in an otherwise good mans life does one get to commit murder without consequence?
“… sir ?”
A chill of cool air from the open doors of the sunroom brought me back to the desolate view of the woods before me. It was far to cold but the overcast was perfect to enjoy the view. I put out another cigarette as I heard Mrs. Beck come closer.
LiLe : Smoking is bad for you kids. FYI. Mr. F was raised in the 50’s so he doesn’t know any better. Tomas has no excuse.
Mr. F : Are you bringing another character into my story ?
Clara : My story
Technically : Have you seen the title ?
“You will have to speak up, Mrs. Beck”, I lingered in the after thoughts of my daydream
Or internal monologing whatever
“I’m sorry Mr. Fierro”, she spoke louder, “I said what happened to the window.”
The
one Clara broke when she tried to escape
Still it was troubling, this vile act of revenge.
He is so not paying attention
Why did Ms. DeLune have to be so relentless in trying to escape, her life was in essence meaning less. Apart from spending her father’s money and tinkering at her piano what was she really missing ?
I would give her life a new meaning
She was my means to an end.
So, he’s trying to justify using her as a pawn in his game. Does he want to kill her ? I’m not sure.
“Mr. Fierro ?”
“Mrs. Beck”, I answered her.
“The window, sir. What happened to it”
“Yes, the window it will need fixing.”
To busy deep in his dark thoughts.
She may have been searching for a more adequate answer but I was far from the mood.
My thoughts were soon interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. I waited for Mrs. Beck to answer it; I did not want to appear to eager.
“Mr. DeLune is calling”, she called from the house, I had noticed that she avoided the backyard ever since the . . . incident.
I had made if halfway to the study when Mrs. Beck handed me the phone.
Someone forgot phones are wireless.
“Mr. DeLune ?”
“Something’s happened. . .we need to discuss some things.”
“I see, I will meet you in an hour.”
“Great, now-“
I didn’t give him the chance to finish and handed the phone back to Mrs. Beck.
So predictable.
Mr. F’s plan is working. . . . except Roger hasn’t seen the note. I think what Mr. F really wants is for Roger to go to jail for what he did and I kind of want him to as well.
+++
“You see, you see it is all there”
2 MILLION OR YOU’LL NEVER SEE YOUR DAUGHTER AGAIN
The message was simple and dull, very impersonal just as I had intended.
I looked over the photograph and envelope as if it were my first time viewing it, Martin motioned for another drink. The bar was empty so early in the afternoon so I had decided to indulge him.
Wow, they probably shouldn’t be doing this in public. Mr. F likes that the bar isn’t crowded cause he’s self-conscious.
“Do you think she is alive”, I asked
“I think so”, he took the photo, “She looks like she is sleeping. . .but that word-“
“Revenge”, I said to quickly, “. . and you say it’s in her handwriting. Do you have any enemies? ”
“No. None. Either way they are asking for 2 million--”
“Perhaps your daughters or your wife? Perhaps they have adversaries you are not aware of, your father even ?”
Wink wink nudge nudge. Show it to Roger.
“That bastard?” he spoke ill of his father, “doubt it”
I hid my frustration; I had over estimated the lengths he would go to for help. Martin believed this to be about him; however this was about his father. This was about Roger.
Hmmm, I wonder why Mr. F just didn’t send the ransom note to Roger. I guess he doesn’t know where he lives.
“Are you sure you can handle being indebted to one person?.”,
He finished off a third expensive scotch.
“When I get my Clara back you’ll get your money”, he believed me to not care about his daughter’s well being, "I just don't need the word getting around about my poor finances"
Does he ? I don’t know
“I’ll write you a check as soon as possible, and hopefully have Miss. Clara safe at home.”
Aw, he called her Clara
We shook hands at our agreement.
There was a clichéd glimmer of hope in his eyes.
I wondered just how predictable Martin could be.
II
+2+
IBLYd43
“Uh, don’t even get me started on his new little friend.”
“Oh, at least you don’t have to clean up after 3 hyperactive 8 year olds !”
The group of tired and worn out women laughed at the prospects of their clients. It was almost the weekend and like most Friday nights the women met at a cheerful working class bar just outside the resort town to share snippets of their upper-class clients.
Among these women was Gail Beck whom, since working for a new client, seemed less tired and less worn-out that the others. She was usually quiet having signed a confidentiality agreement when she began working for the strange young man living at the end of the county
Mr. Fierro had been listless lately, hardly paying attention to anything she may have said. Still what puzzled her more was that broken window. It was a final straw that opened up other question, Such as why she was never allowed to clean upstairs, or why she was generally paid in cash.
It never quite fit with her why a single man would live alone in a mansion. She nervously sipped her warm beer and listened to Harriet retell the story of the Marion triplets running wild in the mall.
Vacuum : UNFORTUNATE IMPLICATIONS
LiLe : I thought you didn’t exist
*bada dish !*
So, this might sound a lot like men IRL who hold women captive
As the laughter hit it’s height Gail excused herself, she was tired and ready to head home. She bundled in her beige winter coat and waited for the bus. While she waited she further considered that missing DeLune girl.
The girl had been by the house before, usually with her father, she was a sweet
girl the apple of her father’s eye.
Of course Gail often saw more than this. She often caught very slight lingering gazes between the girl and her young employer. Furthermore on the last day Gail had seen the girl she had witnessed the two kiss, away from her father’s prying eyes.
Of course they got into a fight afterwards. This was in the earlier chapter.
And then she disappears?
It bothered Gail, and with a bit of liquid confidence she began looking for her
cellphone and began to dial the police when she was knocked to the ground.
Gail turned to face her attacker but saw no one. She reached for her phone now only inches from her, but was dragged toward the back of the bar; Gail dug her nails into the moist ground, pulling up dirt and leaves.
Her 49 year old body feeling the strain she kicked and wailed but saw no one in the dark. She was now behind the bar, the reek of the dumpster and stale beer made her nauseous.
“I’ve had to much to drink”
She ran back to the bus stop, the lights of the gray bus cutting through the night, when she was tripped and dragged back towards the darkness. She sat for a while and listened.
Clip Clip clip
Her eyes adjusted to the dark not believing the image before her. An axe dripping with dried blood was coming towards her, chopping in and out of the ground, pulling dirt and grass along with it. Paralyzed she found the nerve to run the even rhythm of the blade coming closer.
Gail was knocked to the ground again, she backed against the wall her screams came out as mute. Her tired legs were slow the rhythm of the blade picked up.
Clip clip clip
She searched for the assailant but it proved her last.
Blood coated the ground and seeped into the soil.
No one heard her scream, no one saw the attack, no ever saw Gail Beck again.
And that’s what you get for interfering with Lucie’s plans. So Lucie killed two dogs and one human. This is not looking good for her.
ATIMEFORYOUTH
+3+
Red
I saw red everywhere and woke up in a cold sweat, grotesque and gory images faded like a bad dream.
Turning over I fell about a foot down, and rolled on a hard wooden floor.
Still drowsy I felt around the strange environment, as my eyes began to adjust to the dark I saw myself lying in front of a full-length mirror. My eyes were bloodshot
“It was just a bad dream”, I told myself but I couldn’t stop shaking
I quickly gathered that I had fallen out of a bed and furthermore that I hadn’t been alone.
Mr. Fierro’s room was cold and dark not that I expected anything less.
I teetered back towards the bed, watching the unconscious rise and fall of Mr. Fierro’s breathe.
Clara : Wait how did my body get there ? If he’s not asleep he must know my body is next to him ? What is Lucie playing at here ?
He was still dressed a book on the floor, not awake but not quite asleep.
Probably reading a book on exorcisms disguised in a Harry Potter book jacket.
I awkwardly picked up the kerosene lamp on the dresser and hovered just slightly over him the light illuminated his pale incandescent features. The lamp slipped from my hands but I caught it.
Suddenly his icy blue eyes opened, startled I dropped the lamp on the ground. Hot oil and glass shattered everywhere and my nightmare came back to me
Hmmm,
when she drops the hot oil she actually jumps into his lap to avoid getting burned.
I thought it was mentioned in this scene but I guess not. Well I got them in the same bed.
“Lucie, what in God’s name”, he said sitting up.
“It’s me”, I winced while taking a breath, “it’s Clara”
He began searching my eyes for any truth. Lucie had made it unbearably difficult for us to trust each other or ourselves.
I heard her scream again, I could feel the warm red liquid splashing on my face.I held in my sobs as best as I could but I let my tears fall.
“Oh, God”, I whispered, “Blood.”
“Ms. DeLune what –“
“I killed her, oh God I killed her—“
Why had I been so cruel ? She just wanted to get home, she just wanted to help . . .
I began clawing at my face, I could feel the blood but I couldn’t see it. I wanted to make the images go away.
I felt a hand on my back attempting to comfort me, I laid my head into his shoulder.
“It was a nightmare, Ms.DeLune”
“No”, I knew better, “There’s an missing axe in your greenhouse. It’s . . old. I’ve never been there how would I know that”
In the dark I could see her pain, I could hear her begging.
“Who was it”, he pulled me closer.
“Mrs. Beck”, I finally said, “. She’s dead. I-killed her.”
“You have done no such thing.” he told me, “Where is her body hidden, where has Lucie hidden it?”
I studied his eyes, I couldn’t tell if he really cared for the woman or was trying so cover for himself. His hand traveled up to my neck, gently stoking back my hair.
“There is no body, not anymore”
So Lucie sort of transferred the memories to Clara to scare her into not misbehaving. Basically Lucie chopped her up into tiny pieces.
I pushed myself closer to him, terrified to close my eyes or blink to see the macabre scene replayed again.
“Mr. Fierro”, I whispered as if Lucie could hear us, “Because your lives didn’t work out the way you want them, doesn’t mean I can be a pawn to her happy ending. Let’s run away together. I can show you the wonderful places this world has to offer. I want to go far far away from here”
Muse : Hmmmm
LiLe : No
“I need you”, he said, “I need you to stay. . . ”
So I can get my revenge. Was what he was going to say.
He tightened his grip on the back of my neck, it was no longer comforting and I began to feel disoriented before giving into unconsciousness
Ms. 3 : Victimiz—
LiLe : I know I know
So this was one of the first scenes I wrote. The other first scene comes later. In the original scene Clara is upset and crying because Lucie won’t let her eat and has forced her into a really really tight corset. She knocks over the lamp and Mr. Fierro wakes up and cuts her out of the corset. They talk or makeout or something then Lucie comes back and makes Clara break her hands in the window sill. So yeah.
+4+
Mr. Fierro
To my worse fear Mrs. Beck did not show up to work the next day or the following. I questioned Lucie extensively about this yet all she could offer was a slight smile and a promise of better days.
Ms. DeLune had been dangerously shaken up the night of Mrs. Beck’s disappearance. If pain had a sound it was most likely the sound in her voice. For a moment or so I let myself foolishly imagine running away with her, never to see the marshy shores of Chataqua lake or the large inducing DeLune home again.
Muse : Hmmmm
LiLe : NO. I’ve already said in the comments multiple times that this it. NO MORE SEQUELS
I had listened to her cry for a while, quickly realizing I did not know how to take her pain away. My mind trying to fathom how I could project this pain on Roger. I had kissed a bit of her hair but she didn’t notice.
She smelled sweet like honey, far sweeter than any flower. Ms. DeLune fell to asphyxiation quickly. I carried her back to her room, certain she had been dreaming.
The lights in the hall were turned on and floor was smeared with fresh blood leading to her room, once inside I saw the weapon in question. The axe was propped casually next to an open window.
I placed the girl on the bed and picked up the heavy blade with both hands. I had used an axe in my former years, I new it would slice through wood and bone easily.
Ms. DeLune stirred on the bed, almost calling attention to herself.
Now he kind of wants to chop her up.
Perhaps I should send Roger a piece of his granddaughter, perhaps then I could get his attention. I wondered how much money Martin could get for her in pieces, Better yet if I dismembered her could I free her of Lucie’s torments and then. . .
Then . . .
Then I would be alone.
I worked through the night and buried the weapon in the flower bed. Water and numerous chemicals cut threw the blood, but I would always know it was still there.
Lucie had once again left the following day and I once again grew concerned. Without Mrs. Beck it was reasonably quiet.
I had nearly fallen asleep in my study while carefully working my way through an obscure novel The next morning. I heard a sound outside the window, a little tick.
So he’s still not sleeping
From the bay window I saw Ms. DeLune walking outside her arm outstretched and still bandaged fingertips tapping along the metal gates.
She appeared to be in a daze walking absently around the house.
There was a puff of smoke in the distance from a chimney, Roger’s home no less. Clara stopped to look at it. The smoke rose and dissipated, a signal of sorts of how close Roger was. I believed it comforted her.
The rest of this is poorly executed flirting. I really think I was trying to stretch chapters.
She turned to face me taking my arm
in hers and continuing her walk. What appeared to be an amusing smile spread
across her features.
“You know, Mr Fierro”, she started
sensibly, “Your hair is almost white”
At first I was not sure I heard her
correctly, perhaps the cabin fever had worn on her or she had been shocked into
some type of stupor; either way I played along.
“Yes, I suppose that is true”
She laughed a little and continued.
“I couldn't stop seeing what happened to Mrs.
Beck, so I began to look for a way to get away. I came across a book . . . do
you remember the present you gave me for Christmas, do you remember? It was a
book—“
“Alice in Wonderland, I remember”
“Haven’t you ever read it ? you are
like the white rabbit with your pocket watch and you always seem very late for
things. Some say Carroll wrote part of it in the novel in his garden perhaps
one like yours ?”
“Shall I paint my roses red? Would that
please you?”
“What do you mean? Wouldn’t I be Alice?”
“Nonsense, Ms. DeLune. . . you are
the queen of hearts.”
“I don’t think you’ve read the story
at all”
In truth I had never laid eyes
on the story, I hard heard in years ago. My mother had read it to me, the silly
story distracting us from the nauseating up and down of the ocean and the
stench of salt and sweat in the tiny cabin.
1937, it must have been.
What a strange thing to remember.
This scene should have really started here.
The smoke still billowed from Roger’s chimney.
It was as if he was flaunting his naivety, his complete ignorance to the hero he could be. After a few minutes the smoke stopped and ceased to continue.
That would have to change, suddenly I knew how to garner his attention.
“Let’s go for a ride, Ms. DeLune”
“What do you mean ?” You trust me ?”
“Yes”, means to and end I reminded myself, “After all I am the only person who knows the murder you have committed.”
Aw, hell no. Now he is using the memories of the murder to control her. My mal protagonist are awful people.
“It was a nightmare”, she yelled at me
“Was it ? that would hardly explain the trail of blood in you bedroom-“
She struck me.
Thank you , Clara
Ms. 3 : Hitting a man does not equal strong character
It was unexpected, certainly I deserved it still it angered me. I dragged her with full force across the yard and towards the garage searching through the pile of keys.
Something neutral
So not the lamborgini
“I don’t want to go anywhere”, she continued to fight.
I found the keys to the Fairlane and forced her into the car. She was quiet as the garage doors opened. I wrapped myself in a scarf, shades in hat in anticipation of letting the hood down.
“Where are we going ?”, she noticed we were headed into town.
The town had been stripped and redesigned in recent years, giving it the façade of a quaint European village. A few residents wandered the streets in to much of a rush from the cold weather to pay us any attention.
Muse : Not that he’s ever been to Europe or anything.
LiLe : NO SEQUELS
I was careful to drive around the same block a few times, constantly circling the liquor store Roger liked to frequent.
Logic : How does he know what liquor store ?
LiLe : He assumes it was the same one he went to in the 1950s
Ms. DeLune kept her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. I kept my eyes ahead and finally parked in front of the store.
And waited.
Ms. DeLune peered a little farther down the road, there was a bus stop with a ramshackle building not to far from it. The area seemed to hypnotize her, reminding her of what waited should she escape.
“Clarabelle ?”, From the review mirror Roger squinted and called to her, balancing on a cane
He came a little closer and I started the car.
“Grandpa ?”, she heard him, before she could turn I began to drive. Clara seemed unsure as to whether she had truly seen her grandfather or not.
Hmmm, I didn’t catch him calling her Clara so much in this section.
“Stop”, she begged, not daring to escape from a moving car. She looked back helplessly,"stop the car"
She’s shouting at Lucie. Orginally I had the idea of Lucie appearing as a swarm of bats. . . but that didn’t make sense
Suddenly She began swinging and screaming at something I could not see. I drove faster till the car had reached its limit. The road had become empty and once over the bridge we weren’t far from the house.
With new found strength she took the wheel and veered of the road, I hadn’t expected it and tried to regain control, we were now off the road, the tires tore though a marshy field.
“Clara, Stop”
The car scrapped the edge of a tree up ahead I could make out a densely covered ravine not to far.
She was going to kill us both
“Clara”
Her eyes were dark
“Shut up, Addison”
I guess I wanted to draw hard on how Clara and Lucie can’t speak at the same time and how quickly Clara can become Lucie.
Lucie turned to avoid another tree but the car would not stop in time.
The front end slammed into the ravine and sunk into the water before flipping over. The ravine was low and I only suffered a few cuts from the jagged pebbles beneath the surface. After the damage had settled I found a way out from underneath the car. I could hear Cla—Lucie struggling to climb out the window.
I had already begun the long walk back to the lake house
“What were you thinking”, she shouted to me
I turned back toward her.
“What were you thinking? You killed an innocent woman”
“She was only in the way, I was
trying to protect you.”
I fought the urge to strike her, it would not really hurt her either way. I
would have to hurt her with my words.
He wants to hit Lucie but it would only hurt Clara. Not that he should be hitting women.
“You believe no one will grow suspicious? Two women seen in my house suddenly go missing. How simple are you Lucie”
“I don’t have to hide from anyone anymore, we can be together—“
“No, Lucie we can't. Not anymore—“
“ I knew it”, she said, “I told you she would come between us. You said ‘no Lucie, you are the only one for me’ you lied.
I could not just stand and listen to her, it was almost dark and I would never find my way back once night fell.
It had worked perfectly in reality. Surely Roger would remember the car and if it was found in the ravine with no plates or identification it would just add to his confusion.
So, Mr. F once again gets distracted by his revenge plan on Roger.
Happy with this new revelation I found my way back to the main path, I began mentally drafting another letter to the DeLune's when I heard Lucie approaching.
Then I was struck with a hard object, I fell and turned to see her with a tire iron.
"I don't like being lied to", she said
Bitches be crazy
I attempted to defend myself, appeal to her mercy. Rage had overwhelmed her and she struck me again once maybe twice until I was out cold.
Clara : Oh, so he decides he doesn’t lover her AFTER she crashes his car into a ravine and goes after him with a tire iron
LiLe : That’s an oversimplification
Chapter 8
The heater was broken again.
The cold November air worked its way through every crack and splint in the old
station house. The secretary at the front desk thought little of it and
pulled her sweater over her shoulders letting out a detached sigh.
In the corner, Sheriff Rainer watched the sheriff station’s coffee pot grow
cold. The TV was on the fritz and watching the old coffee pot brew and drip
served almost as entertainment.
You know it’s the kind of place
where NOTHING bad happens
It was more than a slow day, it was a slow month.
The population of Chautauqua County tended to dwindle in the cold months and
even then people liked to keep to themselves. Except for a few noise disputes
or car accidents Rainer had been lost in a sea of paperwork stuck behind a
desk.
“Shit”, Rainer eased out of a desk chair as a familiar man approached the station.
“Sheriff ?”, the man said
The old man stumbled through the door, one hand snug around an canvas
bag. He appeared shaken and ambled over to Rainer’s desk, The click of his
metal cane echoing in the small room.
Rainer couldn’t count the times Roger DeLune had burst into the station
in the past months, ranting about his missing granddaughter. The Sheriff had
calmed him down but the truth was it was out of county jurisdiction, but Roger
was a family friend and with that came a listening ear.
“How are you Roger”
He took another step, letting his canvas bag and it’s contents roll to the
ground
It’s alchol. I like the idea of
Roger being super rich but still going out to get his own booze.
“I saw her Sheriff”, Roger’s voice as husky he was out of breath but Rainer
knew what this was about. Roger was in bad health and Rainer suspected it had
something to do with the bottles on the floor.
“Now, Roger we talked—“
“Listen, now Olive. I know what I saw she was here just down that way”, he
pointed down the street, and “you have to believe me. Your father would have.”
Rainer shifted her position, letting her curly auburn hair fall free from her
sheriff’s hat. Her father would have listened to Roger, hell, he would have
poured a cup of coffee by now. Rainer had been used to getting compared to her
father after she took over his position, today she decided to give in and
nodded for Roger to continue.
“I see her everywhere”, continued Roger, “This time she spoke and I. . .”
Roger became distracted by the photo of Rainer’s father on her desk, it was a
new fixture the picture had been taken just before his death a few years back.
“. . . and she spoke to me”, he finished, “she was in an old car, I couldn’t
see who was driving”
Rainer reached for a pen a new type of compassion as she filled out the report.
He spoke carefully and placed a picture of the girl from his wallet onto the
table.
Ms. 3 : What is with all this girl speak ?
LiLe : You are going to hate me
later.
“I’ll see what I can do, Roger”
Rainer called in one of the deputies to take Roger home, keeping the picture of
Clara tucked into the side of her notebook.
While she sat and pondered what to do next the mystery began to unfold itself.
---
The call had come in around midnight,
Rainer stood out in the cold, her Sherriff’s boots digging into the ground, if
she could she would have let out a low whistle.
.
She stood back as the black Ford Fairlane was pulled out of the ravine just of
the northwest back roads. Pulling the car out of the ravine had been quite a
task for the small office a few deputies from other counties had been called
in, most unsure what to do. Rainer canvassed the area trying to figure out what
she was looking for.
The ravine was surrounded by a bleak flat piece of land, the grass was covered
with a light frost that crunched under her shoes. The car had clearly veered
off the road maybe hours ago everything else remained a mystery.
Deputy Morrisy one of the three deputies working in the county jogged over to
Rainer from his car, he had a folder and she inwardly groaned from the thought
of more paperwork.
“It’s not registered”, said deputy Morrisy, “no plates, no . . . bodies. I
don’t think I’ve ever seen the car around town before.”
“Hm”, Rainer responded walking around the area
“Don’t think I’ve ever been this far out in the county”, said Morrisy ,
"It's kinda creepy"
“That so?”, she pushed the tip of her boots into the ground.
“What’s out there anyway”, Morissy was young and enterprising but he asked to
many questions.
“No much now”, she said following his gaze, “There was murder a few miles
up that way.. . that years ago though. My Dad worked the case. Got
him promoted to Sherrif”
“Think it’s the same person who took the DeLune girl, maybe he got out of
prison. ”
“No”, she laughed, “I’m sure we would have found the body by now.
Although . . .”
“What is it Sheriff”
Rainer shrugged it off, if anything she knew about the 1955 case was that Roger
and his wife had somehow been involved. They had been questioned when a couple
reported their nephew missing .
Rainer would often read the case, if only to find comfort in her father’s
handwriting getting inside his head trying to figure out how he worked. Trying
to solve the crime he couldn’t.
“Call Martin DeLune”, she ordered
“And Roger ?”
“No.. . let’s wait till we have better news”
So, at this point I’d pretty much been hard up for finding an ending. I knew it was going to be the final straw but I couldn’t think of anything. I mean Spetres are invincible. The ONLY way Lucie would leave them alone was if she got what she wanted which was her husband back.
So for logic sake I wrote out the ending that way it is now and I found such a great song. It worked so well but I knew it wasn’t the end all be all.
Then I remembered that novella I wanted to write about Clara having a baby and it pissing Martin off, I thought about how Mr. F never had a chance to go anywhere.
I mentioning all of this because when I wrote the last chapter Rainer and Morrisey were just two random cops who said the same lines they say in the last chapter. Then I realized I needed some filler so I promoted Rainer to a female and added in backstory.
--
He appeared sullen with dark markings under his eyes. He couldn’t keep himself
concentrated for to long on one question or a spot on the wall. Martin DeLune
also didn’t seem to keen on resting his daughter’s safety in a woman 18 years
younger than him.
LiLe : Okay I’m sure the math is off here. If Rainer’s father worked the case in 1955-1957 he would have had to have been at least 25. So he was born in 1930. Now since Rainer is 18 years younger than Martin she would have been born in 1973 making Rainer’s Dad 43. . . I guess this makes sense.
Martin claimed to know nothing about the car, something else however was on his
mind.
“Martin”, Rainer whispered, “What’s going on.”
His jaw clenched fingers drumming on the table there was something more.
“My wife and I. ...We received a letter”
“What kind of letter ?”, Rainer’s voice became authoritative
“Ransom letters…I haven’t paid it yet—“
“They will keep asking for more”
“ I shouldn’t be talking to you”
“Martin, this isn’t going to stop—“
“Yes, it is. Money talks a hell of a lot more than justice.”, he stood causing
the chair underneath him crash to the floor, “and you and your backwater town
are going to stay out of this. My father is a drunk he barely know s what year
it is."
"But the car" . .
"Drop it Sheriff, if you're truly his friend then leave it."
Okay
so Martin doesn’t think Mr. F kidnapped his daughter but he is considering it.
Martin strode to the door, pausing just slightly before opening it, leaving
Rainer pouring over a dead end case.
Martin walked around the block certain that no man had ever felt the desperation
he felt now, he feared his wife was losing faith in him especially with another
child on the way.
Also, now that Martin and Clair are having a son they have someone to inherit the DeLune name. This was supposed to play a bigger part in this story but I let it go, well until JNRR that is.
The sun was beginning to set but just before nightfall Martin found the second
place that gave him comfort.
His mother's grave.
He had tried to be the best man he could for her, He wanted to make up for his
father's short coming.
In truth Martin had infact not paid the ransom. For the first time
he had bills to pay and proved unable to protect his own daughter.
Yep,
Martin paid off the expensive wedding and his bills instead of paying Clara’s
ransom. Mr. F of course knows this because he is the ransomer.
He had disgraced his family name and run it through the dirt quicker than
his father.
"Forgive me mother", he said, "Forgive me"