Storiesonline.net ------- Samuel by Lazlo Zalezac Copyright© 2009 by Lazlo Zalezac ------- Description: His eyes were dead. His face flat and expressionless. He moved through life without living. Warning: Do not read if depressed or prone to depression. There is no happy ending in this story. Codes: myst slow caution ------- ------- Chapter 1 From a distance, the middle-aged man didn't look like anyone special. Most people would consider his appearance to be average. He was of average height and average weight with short cropped dull brown hair and a tendency to have a five o'clock shadow by late afternoon. It wasn't until one got closer to him that his more distinctive features were noticeable. His loose baggy clothes hid muscles created by hours of hard exercise performed daily. A small scar on his left cheek, made more obvious by his tan, gave him a dangerous appearance. He looked like someone who had seen violence in his life. He lived an isolated quiet life in a small efficiency apartment. He greeted no one and ignored all attempts at conversation. None of his neighbors could have even known his name except for the fact that Samuel Reynolds was printed in large block letters on his mailbox. None of his neighbors even bothered to learn that much about him. Samuel worked for an insurance company with the impressive title of Grounds Maintenance Engineer which was a politically correct way of saying that he was a gardener. It was a structured job in which the work performed followed the seasons. In the summer, he mowed the lawn, trimmed the hedges, and edged the walkways. In the fall, he raked leaves and prepared the flowerbeds for winter. In the winter, he plowed the snow from the parking lot, cleared the walkways, and maintained the equipment for the coming year. In the spring, he planted flowers. In short, it was a job that didn't require him to interact with people. Every Monday morning, his boss, John Delgado, called him into the office for the purpose of laying out the work for the rest of the week. The meeting this particular Monday morning was going to deviate a little from normal. Without saying a word, Samuel took his normal seat to get his marching orders for the day. He stared down at the floor while listening; giving an occasional nod of his head to indicate that he understood what he was being asked to do. Although used to that kind of behavior from Samuel, John didn't like it. These Monday morning briefings with the man felt a lot like talking to a wall. However, John preferred it to those few occasions when Samuel looked him in the eye. Bringing up the last bit of business for the morning, John said, "I got an e-mail from personnel. They said you haven't identified a beneficiary for your insurance." Acknowledging that he was fully aware that he didn't have a beneficiary, Samuel nodded his head and waited to be dismissed. Not trusting the curt nod of the head, John said, "You need to take care of that." Lifting his head and swiveling it to face John, Samuel looked the other man in the eye. John hated the flat blank look that seemed to last forever. The absence of any sign of life within the man's eyes sent chills down John's spine. Looking away, John said, "I'm serious. You need to go to personnel and take care of it." The middle aged man rose from the chair assuming that the discussion was closed and left the office to start mowing the lawn. Calling out to Samuel's retreating back, John shouted, "Do it before you mow the lawn." John settled in his chair listening to the rattle created by the maintenance bay door opening. A few seconds later, it was followed by the sound of the mower starting. Fully aware that he had been blown off, he swore, "Two can play that game." After making a telephone call, John went over to a bay door and watched Samuel drive away. Behind him, he could hear two of the other men who worked for him talking about the sports events of the weekend. They should have already left the maintenance area to take care of the first item on their work list. As a boss he knew that he should interrupt the conversation and send them out to work, but after dealing with Samuel he appreciated the sounds of people being people too much to break it up. For ten minutes he watched Samuel drive the mower across the large front lawn of the insurance company property. It would take the entire day to mow the lawn. The property was thirty acres and the front lawn was fifteen acres of well cared for grass. A small hill with the name of the insurance company in stone faced the main road that passed by the facility. A two lane drive cut through the property branching to large employee parking lots on the sides of the building and to a smaller visitor's lot at the front door. Normally a property of that size would have two or more gardeners, but Samuel managed to take care of it alone. The man worked at a steady pace throughout the day. He took the mandated breaks, but never paused from his work otherwise. He even took sips from the ever present water bottle while riding the mower. John might not have liked Samuel, but he had to admit the man was a good worker. During the lunch break, John carried his lunch tray to a table next to one of the windows that looked out over the outdoor picnic area in back of the office building. He watched Samuel take his normal seat at an isolated picnic table. The other tables were occupied by smokers and others wanting a little sun during their lunch time. Most tables were filled with folks engaged in typical lunchtime conversations while eating their lunches. Samuel sat where he could observe others without having to directly face them. No one even glanced in his direction. It was as if a wall existed between him and everyone else. He reached into his brown paper bag and removed a sandwich, small bag of chips, a piece of fruit, and a small bottle of soda. He ate the contents mechanically without demonstrating even the barest pleasure from taking his meal. A light gray tabby cat that had incorporated the picnic area into its territory appeared from the edge of the hedges that lined the side of the building. It slowly padded its way over to the picnic area; pausing occasionally to check for any potential threats. The cat changed course to arrive beside Samuel. It sat six paces from Samuel's table at an angle to the middle aged man without once looking at the man. Samuel never glanced in the direction of the stray cat. Despite the man's apparent disinterest in the feline, John watched him pull some of the lunch meat out of his sandwich and toss it to the ground in front of the cat. The cat, without looking in Samuel's direction, grabbed the meat and retreated to an isolated area. John had seen the man feed the cat in the past. He didn't know what to make of Samuel's actions. Shaking his head, John turned to his tray and started to eat. Jeff Conklin sat down at the table across from him. Jeff said, "I've assigned Julia Powers to meet with Samuel." "Lucky her," John said with a snort. "She's fairly attractive in a non-threatening way. Maybe she'll get through to him," Jeff said after looking around to make sure that he wasn't overheard. John said, "I doubt it." "Is he still one of the walking dead?" Jeff asked. "The man is a zombie," John answered. Jeff said, "That's not our problem to solve." "I know. You just don't have to deal with him every day," John said. He looked out the window and watched Samuel eat his sandwich in a mechanical fashion. "Is he a problem?" Jeff asked. "He doesn't do anything wrong. He's just creepy," John answered. "Creepy in what way?" "I just keep waiting for the day when he comes in with a gun and kills everyone," John answered. This had not been one of his concerns when he had been promoted to his supervisory position. He had looked forward to the increase in pay without giving thought to the problems of dealing with people. Concerned, Jeff asked, "Has he given any signs that he is thinking about doing that?" "Not really. I just keep thinking that it is the quiet ones who perform the most violent actions," John answered. It was a common theme in news reports of violence. John worked through the afternoon overseeing the work done by the men who worked for him. It was nearly quitting time when there was a knock on the door frame of his office. The knock was accompanied by, "I'm Julia Powers from personnel. I'm here about Samuel Reynolds." "Thanks for coming, Ms. Powers," John Delgado said while rising from his chair. He prided himself on being a gentleman despite his blue collar background although there were times when he thought that it was because of his blue collar background that he was a gentleman. He took a moment to examine the young woman. She was in her late twenties and, despite being a tad overweight, was an attractive woman. She was dressed in a conservative brown suit; the skirt falling to just below her knees and the jacket covering a simple white shirt. "Just call me Julia," she replied thinking it would let him know that she was not one to look down on men who worked with their hands for a living. Most of the people she dealt with in her job were secretaries and salaried people with college educations, but she came from a blue collar background. "I know this is a Mohammed and the mountain kind of thing, but Samuel wasn't ever going to go to your office," John said apologetically. "I went through his file," Julia said. Her friendly face took on a dark hue while recalling the details about Samuel's life. She hadn't liked what she had read within his file. She had been particularly disgusted by what she had read after searching the internet using his name as the query. "I may not like him, but he's a good employee," John said knowing what had caused the change in her appearance. "He's never late to work and he does his job. He's never taken a sick day." "Yeah, but..." "You and I might not like what he did, but he served his time," John said waving a hand to cut her off. "I know," Julia said. She wasn't going to make a big deal out of Samuel's past, but knowing what he had done made it difficult for her to face the man. Stepping out from behind his desk, John said, "Use my desk." "Thank you," Julia said dropping her stack of papers on the desk. She had Samuel's personnel folder and a stack of benefits forms to fill out. In reviewing his file she had realized that there were several problems with his paperwork. "I'll wait outside in the hallway while you're in here with him. If you need anything, just give me a call," John said. He recognized that the young woman was well out of her comfort zone at the prospect of dealing with Samuel. Appreciating that John would remain nearby, Julia said, "That will make me feel much better about this." "Let me warn you; don't look him in the eyes," John said. Wondering if a direct look would be interpreted as a threat by the man, Julia asked, "Does it make him go postal?" "No. You just won't like what you see," John said cryptically. He couldn't contain the shiver that went through his body just thinking about it. Near the end of the work day, Samuel returned the mower to the maintenance bay. He had just finished washing it and was getting ready to clock out. John stepped into the work area and said, "Julia Powers from Personnel is waiting for you in my office. You need to talk to her before you leave." Looking over at the door of John's office, Samuel shrugged his shoulders. Pointing towards the office door, John said, "Now." The middle-aged man went into the office and sat down without greeting the woman seated at the desk. She looked up at him to find that he was staring at the floor without looking at her. Nervous, she asked, "Are you Samuel Reynolds?" She glanced up from the papers spread out in front of her in time to see that Samuel nodded his head in response to her question. She had expected to see prison tattoos on his arms, but his arms were bare. The scar on his face and the obvious muscles of his arms did give him a dangerous look that increased the fear she felt. Accepting his non-verbal response as an affirmation of his identity, she said, "I need the name of a beneficiary for your life insurance policy." Samuel shifted his gaze from the floor to her. Without saying a word, he stared at her for a full minute. It wasn't a challenging or belligerent expression on his face. In fact, there was absolutely no emotion in his face. After the first few seconds, Julia was extremely uncomfortable. By the end of the minute, she was ready to run out of the room. Trying to invoke some kind of verbal response, she said, "I just need the name of a family member." "No family," he said in a soft voice that was surprisingly deep. Despite the rich resonance, it was void of all emotion. "How about a friend?" There was a long moment of silence before he answered, "No friends." "How about a good acquaintance?" "No acquaintances." "Is there a charity you support?" Julia asked in desperation. Life insurance was one of the company benefits and it required a beneficiary. "No charities," Samuel answered. Julia glanced at him and then stared fixedly at the sheet of paper in front of her. She decided to take a different tack and asked, "The money can be used to care of your burial expenses. Who will take care of your funeral?" "No one." "You've got to be buried," Julia said. "Pauper's field." "I need a beneficiary." "You," Samuel said before leaving the room. "I can't do that," she called after him. She looked down at the form wondering what she was supposed to do with it. In the distance, the sound of the time clock making a cha-chunk when it stamped the current time on a timesheet let her know that he was leaving. John stepped into the office and asked, "How did it go?" "He has no one to name as a beneficiary," Julia said shaken by the conversation with Samuel. She wondered if it was really true that he had no family, no friends, or even close acquaintances. She felt it was impossible for any human being to be that isolated from all others. The idea that it was possible disturbed her more than she would ever admit. "That doesn't surprise me. I have nearly a dozen people working in maintenance and they all eat lunch together except for him. I've never seen him talk to one of his coworkers," John said. He snorted and added, "He's not exactly a friendly person. In fact, he's creepy." Frowning, Julia said, "I watched over my grandmother when she was on her deathbed. I was there when she passed away. Her eyes had been open at the time. I watched my father reach over and close them. I kept thinking about how one second there had been life in them and the next they were just dull. You knew that she was dead just by looking at her eyes. My grandmother's eyes had more life in them after she had died than was present in his eyes." "He's always like that," John said thinking that her description of his eyes was very accurate. He leaned against the door frame and said, "I've never seen him smile, get angry, or look bored. His face always has that same flat emotionless expression. It is that flat stare of his that sends shivers down my spine." She shifted in her seat and stared at the sheet of paper in front of her. She asked, "What do you think he's thinking about when he stares at you like that?" "Honestly, I don't know," John answered. After gathering the papers, Julia rose from the desk. She said, "I'll have to see what we can do about this. I don't think we've ever had anyone who rejected the life insurance benefit before." "I guess there's always a first time," John said trying to lighten the mood. "True," Julia said. "Thanks for the use of your office." "My pleasure," John said. He stepped out of her way and watched her leave for her office. She was an attractive woman despite being a little heavier than the ideal put forth by fashion magazines. He wondered how Samuel had reacted to her. The man would have to be totally dead inside not to feel a small spark of attraction to her. Dismissing all thoughts of Samuel, John went through the process of closing the maintenance area. He looked forward to getting home and having a beer while waiting for his wife to fix dinner. Mondays were his worst day of the week and he was happy that the day was over. Julia returned to her office and found her boss, Jeff Conklin, waiting for her. Jeff said, "I take it by the expression on your face that you just met Samuel Reynolds." "Yes I did," Julia answered knowing that he was well aware of where she had been. He had told her to go there. "Any luck getting a beneficiary out of him?" Jeff asked. "No," Julia said defensively. She was concerned that he would view her failure as an inability to perform her job. Recognizing her defensiveness for what it was, Jeff said, "I didn't think you'd have any luck. You're the fourth person I've sent to him. I do it every year. Don't take it personally." "Why did you send me down there?" Julia asked. Shrugging his shoulders, Jeff answered, "People's lives change over time. Maybe the next time we ask him he will have a beneficiary." "I don't think his situation will change," Julia replied. Jeff asked, "Why do you say that?" "No woman would willingly spend two seconds with him," Julia answered. A hundred different ideas of what he had been thinking while starting at her had passed through her mind since leaving the office where she had met with Samuel. Few of those ideas made her feel comfortable. She was fairly confident that she would have nightmares that night. Jeff made a dismissive gesture with a hand. He said, "There are a lot of desperate lonely women out there who will overlook a lot of things just to have a person in their lives." "I disagree," Julia said. "Considering his past, no woman would ever give him a second thought." Jeff shook his head thinking that he had seen things happen that were far less likely. Changing the subject, he said, "Maria Menendez has made an appointment for you first thing in the morning tomorrow. She's going through a divorce and needs to make some changes in her benefits." "That shouldn't take long," Julia said. With over two thousand employees at that location it seemed to her that someone was always going through the divorce process. From her perspective it was just a matter of filling out a few forms. The only problem was dealing with the emotions that they demonstrated. "Make sure that you have a box of tissues on your desk," Jeff said before heading to his office. Julia watched him leave with a frown on her face. The comment about tissues usually meant the people were going through a very messy divorce. She muttered, "I wonder who was cheating on who." Reaching her office, she looked out the window at the parking lot. Cars were lined up to get out of the parking lot. It took a half of an hour for the building to empty out and cars to vacate the parking lot. More often than not she was one of the last people to leave the building. Not wanting to be reminded of this afternoon's activities the next day, she picked up Samuel's file. She sighed and put it the filing cabinet. Before shutting the drawer, she muttered, "What kind of man can kill his wife and two kids in cold blood?" ------- The white pickup truck turned into the parking lot of a run-down apartment complex. At one time the complex had been filled with singles starting out in their careers and young couples starting families. Since then it had become home to low income families with a quarter of the occupants on welfare. The poverty was painfully obvious and one could not look at the complex without feeling depressed. The three buildings that lined the large central parking lot were over forty years old and showed every day of their age. The battleship gray paint was faded from exposure to the elements. Many of the buildings' windows were missing screens or had screens that were torn. The lawn, filled with weeds and bare patches, needed mowing. Battered toys and bicycles were scattered in front of apartment doors. A few apartments had worn out chairs set up on the small porches or balconies. Samuel turned his truck into the parking spot in front of his efficiency apartment. Once parked, he stepped out of his truck and made his way towards the mailbox stand in front of the apartment complex office. A tricycle that was missing a rear wheel was lying on its side in the middle of the sidewalk. The absent wheel was a couple of feet away in the parking lot. He stepped around the obstacle without giving it a glance. The cries of a child echoed out from an open apartment door. He opened the door to his mailbox ignoring the message, 'U SUCK, ' spray painted in black paint across the bank of mailbox doors. He removed the half dozen envelops before closing the door. Without looking through the mail, he headed to his apartment door. A young woman wearing a tube top and shorts was standing by the tricycle with a young boy pointing at the broken toy. Her large breasts threatened to escape from her tube top. Her belly hung over her tight shorts in a substantial roll of fat. Her dirty blond hair framed a face marred by a black eye that had turned yellow. Her days as someone's high school sweetheart were far in the past and a distant memory for all of those involved. The woman noticed Samuel approaching and grabbed the hand of the young boy before rushing to the door of her apartment. The boy had protested until seeing Samuel and beat his mother to the door. The door slammed closed behind them. Samuel walked past staring at the ground ten feet in front of him. He turned up the walkway to his apartment. The small porch was empty. There was nothing to indicate that anyone lived with the apartment. He went into his apartment closing and locking the door behind him. He went to kitchen table and sorted through the mail. The advertisements and offers for credit cards went into a small trash can by the table. He opened the electric bill and examined the amount owed on it. Taking a seat, he reached for the checkbook and opened it to the first blank check. Double checking the amount due, he wrote a check for the amount of the bill. After tearing the check out of the check book, he turned to the registry and recorded the check. The balance remaining in his checkbook was over forty thousand dollars. He stuffed the check and the bill into the return envelope. After sealing it, he set it aside to take out to the mailbox in the morning. Opening the freezer door, he removed a TV dinner without looking to see what it was. Turning it over to the back, he read the directions. Following the directions, he popped the TV dinner in the microwave. He went into the living room of his apartment and sat on the edge of the bed. Without moving, he stared at the far wall until the timer on the microwave went off. Using a pot holder, he carried the hot container of food to the table. He returned to the kitchen and poured a glass of milk. Picking up a fork and knife, he carried his glass out to the table. He sat and ate his meal. Moving mechanically he shoveled the food from the plastic container to his mouth pausing occasionally to take a sip of his milk. It took him less time to consume the meal than it had to heat it in the microwave. Samuel rose from the table upon swallowing the last of his milk. It took him a minute to clear off the table, throw away the trash, wash the dishes, and clean up the kitchen. He left the room spotless and returned to the bed. He sat down and stared at the wall for the next two hours without moving. When it got too dark to see the wall across the room, Samuel reached over and turned on the light. The bare light cast harsh shadows around the room. He rose from the bed and stripped to his underwear. He then began his nighttime regime of a hundred push-ups, sit-ups, deep knee bends, toe touches, and other exercises. He finished by running in place for thirty minutes. After picking up his clothes, he stripped and took a shower. He washed with a simple bar of soap; using it on his hair as well as the rest of his body. It didn't take long for him to get clean and dry. He went to the kitchen table and picked up a pen and notebook. He spent two minutes writing in the notebook before closing it and going to bed. He turned off the light and went to sleep. ------- Chapter 2 The seasons turned and autumn finally came with cooler temperatures, trees changing colors, and shorter days. It was a brisk early evening when Maria Menendez left the office building with her friend Sally. The pair of women headed towards the parking lot. While they walked, Sally asked, "Did you get the restraining order?" "Yes," Maria answered in a tired voice. The past few months had aged her ten years. "That's good," Sally said. She paused to light a cigarette while wondering if Maria would like to go to one of the local clubs for happy hour. "It will just piss him off," Maria said. She hoped that the restraining order worked, but she didn't have faith in the system. The order to keep her ex-husband away only helped after he violated it. She was terrified that it would be too late by then. Sally exhaled a cloud of smoke and then said, "Honey, you'll get through this. Why don't you go with me to the Black Hat Bar tonight?" "I wouldn't be good company," Maria said. "You need to get laid. That will get your mind off your pending divorce to that asshole," Sally said. Her answer to all problems was to engage in no strings attached sex. It might not solve her problem, but she was usually a whole lot less stressed after a good time in bed with a well endowed man. The friendly exchange came to an abrupt end when Maria reached her car. Her ex-husband, Victor, stood up from behind another car waving a pistol in her general direction. She screamed upon seeing the gun in his hand. All of her worst fears were coming true. In a slurred voice, he said, "You slut. You tell everyone that I'm violent. I'll show you violent." Sally took one look at the huge man standing in front of her. He looked small compared to the gun in his hand. If asked, she would have described it as being a cannon. She turned and ran away from the scene shouting, "He's got a gun!" Standing a dozen cars away, Julia Powers had just finished searching through her purse for her car keys when she heard a woman scream. Startled by the scream she dropped her key ring. Looking up, she saw a woman running in her direction shouting, "He's got a gun!" "Oh shit, Samuel Reynolds has finally flipped out," Julia swore. Despite the passage of several months since meeting him she was unable to forget looking into those dead eyes of his. He had become the boogie man in her nightmares. She ducked behind her car and tried to look small while trying to locate her keys. Samuel walked out to the parking lot having finished a long day of work. As usual, he walked along staring at the ground ten feet in front of him. He stopped when a woman screamed. Looking up, he heard another woman shout, "He's got a gun." From a distance of less than twenty feet, Samuel saw a large man strike a Hispanic woman with the back of his left hand while waving a pistol in his right hand. The woman staggered back with an expression of terror on her face. One of her hands went to the side of her face where she had been struck. Her other hand was outstretched as if she could hold the huge man away from her. She kept backing away from him on legs that barely responded to her brain's commands. Taking a step forward, the man shouted, "I should kill you, bitch." Having heard the shouts, Jeff stood by his car dialing 911 on his cell phone. He knew that the police would arrive too late to prevent a disaster, but there was no way that he was going to take on a man carrying a gun. Watching the disaster unfolding in front of him, he swore, "Answer the fucking phone." The operator came online just in time to hear Jeff mutter, "What in the name of hell is Samuel doing over there?" "What is happening?" the operator asked. The man reached back to strike the woman a second time. He was posed to backhand her with his pistol. He paused upon finding that he was facing a man all of a sudden. He growled and said, "Get out of the way. This isn't any of your business." Samuel didn't say a word; he just stared the man in the eyes without blinking. "Someone is about to die. We need police here right now," Jeff said into the cell phone. He couldn't believe that Samuel had intentionally stepped up to a man waving a gun. The huge man looked in Samuel's eyes and a chill went down his spine. The dull flat expression in those eyes did not demonstrate fear, confidence, or concern. The only thing he saw in those eyes was death. For a short time he was paralyzed on the spot until he remembered that he was the one with the gun. He started to point the pistol at the much smaller man. Without changing the passive expression on his face, Samuel exploded into action. Seconds later the large man was curled in the fetal position on ground with Samuel passively standing over him. Samuel turned to the Hispanic woman and, in an emotionless voice, he said, "Leave." The single word from Samuel snapped Maria out of her terrified paralysis. After grabbing her purse from where she had dropped it, Maria ran to her car. There was a beep beep when the car door unlocked. She threw open the door and climbed into the driver's seat. She fumbled with her keys for a moment to get the key in the ignition. Barely able to think, she managed to get the car started. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she drove away without looking back. As a result of the cars between him and Samuel, Jeff could not see what had happened to the big man. All he could see was Samuel staring down at the ground. Shocked by the violence he had witness, he said, "I think Samuel killed him." "Would you repeat that?" the 911 operator said. "I think Samuel killed him," Jeff said. He was still stunned by the speed and aggression of Samuel's attack on the big man. Samuel had moved so fast that he hadn't been able to see the moves. The 911 operator said, "The police are almost there." The sound of sirens filled the air drowning out a long low moan uttered by the big man. His jaw was throbbing and there was a ringing in his ears. After a while his awareness of the pain shifted to his right hand. He was able to open one eye and saw that his hand was a bloody mess. He had no idea what had happened to him. Julia had finally found her keys and unlocked the door of her car. Not having heard any shots, she peered over the hood to see if the coast was clear. She spotted Samuel standing between two parked cars. He was just standing there looking down at the ground. Trying not to become a target, she opened the door to the car and climbed inside trying to keep low. She drove away feeling guilty about fleeing the scene. She pulled out her cell phone and made a call to the police that Samuel had a gun in the parking lot. She added in the fact that he was a convicted murderer out on parole. Chuck Scherl was the security guard stationed at the employee entrance to the building that evening. It was his job to make sure that anyone who entered the building through the door was an employee. He was unarmed and had been spending most of his time telling people to have a good night while they were leaving. His attention had been diverted when Sally ran into the building shouting something about someone having a gun. He looked over at the surveillance cameras and couldn't see anything happening. Sally was quite hysterical and kept poking her cigarette in his face while explaining that Maria's ex- husband was in the parking lot waving a gun around. Chuck kept glancing between her and the monitor failing to see anything that supported her story. He picked up his radio and called into the security center the story that there was a report of a gun in the parking lot. By this time, a police car was turning into the parking lot. It took some time for the first two officers on the scene to locate Samuel. They found him standing over the battered man on the ground. They immediately took charge of the scene. Based on the 911 calls that had been received, the initial information clearly identified Samuel as the guilty party. Upon determining that Samuel was the man still standing, they searched him for weapons, cuffed his hands behind his back, and arrested him. More police cars arrived on the scene followed by an ambulance for the injured man. Having been read his rights, Samuel sat in the rear seat of the police car with his hands cuffed behind his back. He stared out the window watching the activity without emotion. After ten minutes, two policemen got into the car and headed for the station. The officer riding shotgun turned in his seat and asked, "Did they read you your rights?" Samuel nodded his head. The officer said, "Speak to me when I ask you a question. Did they read you your rights?" "Yes," Samuel answered. It was the first word that he had uttered since telling Maria to leave. "Tell me what happened," the officer said. "No," Samuel replied while staring out the window. He listened to the police officer ask questions, but didn't say a word in response. The trip to the police station didn't take long. Samuel was led to a holding cell. One of the police officers changed the handcuffs so that his hands were cuffed in front of his body rather than behind his back. He had stood there passively through the process and then sat down on the hard bench to wait. Back at the scene of the crime, the police were busy trying to sort through a dozen different versions of what had taken place. By this time, there were people swearing they had heard gunshots. It took some time for them to discover that one of the key witnesses wasn't present. An officer was dispatched to locate Maria Menendez. Based on the stories it was basically impossible to determine who had original possession of the gun. It wasn't until Chuck mentioned that they had the events captured on video tapes before a clearer understanding of what had happened was achieved. At the station, Samuel was led into an interrogation room. Detective Stafford said, "You have a right to have an attorney present. Do you want one?" Staring at the table top, Samuel shook his head and answered, "No." "Tell me what happened," Detective Stafford said. Now that he was on record for offering legal counsel, he went to work trying to get a confession from the primary suspect. "No," Samuel said. Detective Stafford said, "Look, it will go easier on you if you just tell me what happened. Why were you there with a gun?" Samuel stared at the tabletop without answering. Seeing that Samuel wasn't going to say a word, Detective Stafford said, "I know you were convicted of killing your wife and two kids. If you don't cooperate you're going back to prison for a very long time." Lifting his head, Samuel stared at the detective. Seeing the dead eyes and blank expression, Detective Stafford felt a chill down his spine. Convinced that he was staring into the eyes of a cold blooded killer, he asked, "Don't you feel any remorse for what you've done?" Samuel shrugged his shoulders and lowered his head to stare at the tabletop. Detective Stafford asked, "How did you ever get paroled?" "Overcrowding," Samuel answered. Detective Stafford glanced over at the mirrored window wishing that the video camera wasn't rolling. This was one of the few times in his career that he really felt like beating the truth out of a suspect. He sat back in his chair trying to decide how to get a confession out Samuel without resorting to violence. An officer stuck his head in the room and said, "Detective Stafford, I need to talk to you for a minute." Appreciating the chance to take a break, Detective Stafford left the room. Once the door to the interrogation room had closed, the other officer said, "Let him go. He didn't do anything wrong." "What do you mean?" Detective Stafford asked. He was convinced that he had a guilty man in that room. An innocent man would have protested his innocence by this point in time. The officer said, "According to Detective Daniels, Samuel protected a woman from her ex-husband. The ex was the one with a gun. The guy in there may have saved her life." "You're kidding," Detective Stafford said while looking back at the door to the interrogation room. The man inside wasn't acting like an innocent man. "The cameras in the parking lot showed the whole thing," the officer said. Thinking there may have been a mistake, Detective Stafford said, "I've got to talk to Detective Daniels." Ten minutes later Detective Stafford entered the interrogation room. He looked across the table at Samuel for a full minute. Having heard Detective Daniels' description of the events, he wanted to get some kind of emotional reaction out of Samuel. Finally, he said, "We have video of you and Victor Menendez. We know what happened there. Do you have anything to say in your defense?" Samuel shrugged his shoulders and stared at the tabletop. Unable to understand Samuel's behavior, Detective Stafford said, "The video shows that you protected the woman from her ex-husband. You may have saved her life." Without changing expression, Samuel shrugged his shoulders. Disgusted, Detective Stafford went over to Samuel and removed the handcuffs. He gestured to the door and said, "You're free to go." Samuel rose from his chair and left the room. Detective Stafford watched him leave before going to get the tape of the interview. He wanted to watch it later. Something didn't feel right to him and he wasn't going to let it rest. It was twenty minutes later when Detective Stafford went into the front room of the station. He found Samuel seated in a chair staring at the floor. Curious, he asked, "What in the hell are you still doing here?" "Waiting for a taxi," Samuel answered without looking at the detective. "Shit." Detective Stafford turned to look at the duty officer and said, "Get a patrol car to take this man home." An hour later Detective Stafford and Detective Daniels were in a conference room watching a tape of the events in the parking lot. When it reached the point where the police were taking Samuel into custody Detective Stafford said, "You can stop it here." "It is a pretty open and shut case against Victor Menendez," Detective Daniels said stating what the tape had obviously demonstrated. Raising an eyebrow, Detective Stafford asked, "Do you think so?" "Sure." "Watch this," Detective Stafford said while putting the tape of the interview with Samuel into the video player. The pair of men watched the interrogation without saying a word. When it ended, Detective Stafford asked, "What do you think?" "Weird," Detective Daniels said. He sat back in his chair and thought about it for a minute. Shaking his head, he said, "There is more going on here than meets the eye." "Do you think he's Maria's lover?" Detective Stafford asked. Romantic ties often led to situations like this. "I don't know. I think we need to ask some more questions," Detective Daniels said. Detective Stafford said, "I can tell you one thing. He's not going to answer any questions we might have." "You're right," Detective Daniels said. Thinking about how much a fuller investigation would cost, he said, "We had better talk to the chief tomorrow before we put any resources on this case." At the same time Detective Stafford and Detective Daniels were meeting, Maria Menendez was hiding in her darkened apartment with a heavy chair shoved against the front door. She cowered in a corner when there was a knock on her door. She ignored the voice identifying the visitor as police. She was too scared to accept that a real policeman was at her door. Visions of her ex-husband busting through the door with one of his friends kept flashing through her mind. In her shock by the unexpected violence she had experienced, Maria did not realize that her ex- husband had been rendered incapable of harming a fly before she had fled. She wondered about the identity of the mysterious man who had saved her from her husband. She hoped that the man was still alive, but she doubted it. Her husband was much larger and would kill him without batting an eye. At the same time Detective Stafford and Detective Daniels were meeting, Samuel arrived home after getting a ride to his car and stopping by a burger place to grab a late meal. He ate the meal in his truck in a dark corner of the parking lot. It had been twenty-four years since he had eaten a fast food hamburger. Upon arriving home, he picked up his mail and took a few minutes to pay his gas card bill. Once that was done, he stripped down to his underwear and began his evening exercise program. He went through the entire program despite the late hour. He took a shower, spent ten minutes writing in a notebook, and then went to bed. He was asleep within five minutes of laying down. It was many hours later before Maria cried herself asleep in the corner of the room. She did not have a restful sleep. Each little noise woke her. Nightmares interrupted her sleep. ------- Chapter 3 Feeling refreshed from a good night's sleep, Samuel woke when his alarm clock rang at six in the morning. He got out of bed and began his normal morning routine. While the coffee was brewing, he performed his morning exercise regime that included fifty sit-ups, push-ups, deep knee bends, toe touches, and other exercises. It was a typical prison cell exercise program that didn't require equipment of any kind. Once he had finished his exercises, he drank a cup of coffee. Seated at the table, he read over what he had written in the notebook the previous night. He appended a line of text to the entry. After finishing his coffee, he took a shower and then put on a clean work uniform. He returned to the kitchen and fixed a bowl of cereal for breakfast. It didn't take long to eat. He fixed a quick lunch of a sandwich, bag of chips, and an apple. He filled two large water bottles with water from the tap. It was 7:30 by the time he finished straightening up the bed. The small apartment was spotless just as it was every morning when he left for work. After grabbing his lunch and the two bottles of water Samuel headed to work. He arrived at the parking lot twenty minutes after leaving the house. He walked into the maintenance area and clocked in early but within the five minute grace window that was either side of 8:00. By the official time the work day was to start, he was riding on the lawn vacuum clearing the leaves that had fallen or blown onto the front lawn since the previous day. The lawn vacuum was a lot like a lawn mower except that it sucked up the leaves and deposited them in a bag that was pulled behind the tractor body. Julia Powers pulled into the parking lot narrowly missing a car because she was distracted by seeing Samuel at work. She had listened to the news the previous night and heard a short news story about the events of the previous evening. The news, based on early inaccurate information, had reported that a suspect had been taken to the police station and a victim had been taken to a hospital. She had assumed that the suspect was Samuel. Like many, she believed that when the police called someone a suspect that they actually meant perpetrator. She couldn't believe that they would release him so quickly. She noticed Jeff walking a few paces ahead of her while entering the building. She started walking a little quicker to catch up to him without looking too obvious. Rather than starting with her questions, she said, "Hello, Jeff." "Hello, Julia." Gesturing to the front of the building, she asked, "What is Samuel Reynolds doing here?" "He's working," Jeff answered well aware that was not the question she was asking. Julia snorted and said, "I can see. What I mean is -- why isn't he in jail?" "He's a hero. He saved Maria Menendez last night from her pistol packing ex-husband," Jeff answered. He still had a hard time believing what he had personally witnessed. She was shocked by the suggestion that Samuel was a hero. Feeling guilty about the call to 911 that she had made, she said, "I thought Samuel was the one with the gun." "You and a hundred other people," Jeff said. "I already had two e-mails demanding that we fire him. Of course they weren't quite nice in how they worded it. He was referred to as the psycho and the zombie killer. I imagine that my voice mail is filled with messages to that effect." The pair walked in the direction of their offices while thinking about the consequences of the events of the previous evening. When they reached the privacy of their office area, Julia asked, "What are you going to do about Samuel?" "I'll compose an e-mail pointing out that Samuel heroically faced an armed man to protect another of our employees. I'll stress that the attacker did not work here and that we are taking steps to assure better security in the parking areas. We'll issue the e-mail through one of the high level directors," Jeff answered. He hoped that would kill all talk about firing Samuel. "That might help," Julia said. Jeff said, "I hope that squelches calls to get rid of him. Based on what I've seen, I can only assume that comments to him will not be very nice. If it gets too bad he could sue us for creating a hostile workplace. After all, he didn't do anything wrong." "When I heard that woman shouting about someone having a gun, I was positive that Samuel had gone postal on us," Julia said. She had not slept well the previous evening thinking about how close she had come to getting killed. Having seen Samuel in action, Jeff hoped that the man never lost it. He feared that no one would survive. He hoped that events did not push Samuel in that direction. He looked over at Julia and knew that admitting his thoughts aloud would be a very bad idea. The situation was becoming nearly unmanageable in the maintenance area. These were people who actually worked with Samuel and all of them had experienced staring into his blank eyes. John Delgado was surrounded by a very upset and angry maintenance crew. Unfortunately, John didn't know more about the events of the previous night than what anyone who worked for him knew. One of the men said, "I heard that he went postal last night." "My wife doesn't want me working around him anymore." "He's a psycho." "Have you ever looked in his eyes?" "Dead man walking." "I heard that he was out in the parking lot shooting at people." Trying to get control over the situation, John whistled to get everyone to shut up. Looking around, he said, "I don't know exactly what happened last night. I do know that if Samuel had done anything wrong that the police wouldn't have released him to return to work." "I don't believe that. He's probably out on bail or something." John said, "Get to work. I'll find out what happened and let you know." "Fucking management whitewash." "Damned liberal lawyers." John glared at the men and told them to get back to work. Once everyone had left, he headed to his office trying to figure out where he could learn the details about what had happened the previous night. He stared at his telephone wondering who to call. The only positive note was that Samuel had gone through his normal work routine without doing anything to escalate the tensions. After a night without much sleep, Maria Menendez managed to rouse enough energy to call her boss. Her hands trembled while trying to dial the number and it took her three attempts to finally manage it. She nearly broke down in tears when she told him that she wouldn't be in the office and wasn't quite sure when she would make it. A half an hour later she called the suicide hotline. She wasn't dealing with the situation well. An hour later, she checked into a hospital. The police still hadn't found her to get her version of the events. John's problem with finding out details about the events of the previous evening was solved when Jeff stopped by his office. After a quick conversation with Jeff, John went out to call Samuel into his office to meet with Jeff. Samuel entered the office and took a seat without looking at Jeff. He sat there staring at the floor. Jeff said, "Good morning, Samuel." Samuel shrugged his shoulders. Knowing that further small talk would be met with the same response, Jeff slid a sheet of paper across the desk to Samuel. He said, "We are planning on releasing this e-mail to everyone who works at this site. It basically explains the events of the previous evening. We would like your permission to release it since it mentions you by name." "No." Surprised by Samuel's response, Jeff said, "You might want to read it." Samuel picked up the sheet of paper and read it carefully. He handed the sheet of paper back to Jeff and said, "No." "Why not? It is a flattering article," Jeff asked. Samuel shrugged his shoulders and stood up. Without saying a word he left the office. Jeff shouted, "Come back here Samuel. We need to talk about this." When Samuel didn't return, Jeff knew that his plan for handling the situation had failed. He swore, "Fuck. What do I do now?" Later that afternoon, Chief Calhoun, Detective Daniels, and Detective Stafford were in the conference room watching the tapes of the parking lot events and the interview. When the tape of the interview was over, Chief Calhoun said, "I didn't realize that Samuel Reynolds was out on parole." "You know him?" Detective Stafford asked. They had mentioned Samuel's name, but not the fact that he was a convicted murderer. Nodding his head, Chief Calhoun answered, "I was the first officer to arrive at the scene of the murder that he committed. Let me tell you, it was pretty shocking." Detective Daniels said, "Tell us about it." "He killed his wife and two kids. He shot his wife in the face. She was a real pretty woman and it was like he wanted to erase her beauty off the face of the earth. He shot his kids in the center of their chests from close range. The boy was three and the daughter was two. They were really nice kids," Chief Calhoun said. He had watched some tapes of the family on a picnic. "Why did he do it?" Detective Stafford asked. "We think his wife was having an affair and he found out about it. We found a pornographic magazine under his bed open to a story about a cheating wife," Chief Calhoun answered. Detective Stafford asked, "What did he say happened?" "He said that he was innocent. He claimed his wife and kids were okay when he left the house that morning and that he spent the entire day at his property in the country working on their new home," Chief Calhoun answered. He was silent for a moment and then added, "No one could confirm his story, but all of the evidence pointed at him. The time of death was approximately the same as when he left the house in the morning and the murder weapon was a pistol that he had bought a year earlier. The wife didn't have any defensive wounds which suggested that she knew and trusted her killer. Hell, even his own parents said that his wife was worried about him discovering something unpleasant." Detective Stafford said, "His own parents testified against him?" "Yeah," Chief Calhoun said. "His whole family testified against him." "Sounds like simple case of a jealous husband killing his wife," Detective Daniels said. Detective Stafford asked, "Are you sure he did it?" "I'm positive," Chief Calhoun answered. There had never been a second suspect in the case. He said, "His family wouldn't even post bail for him once he had been arrested." Detective Stafford asked, "What do you make of my interview with him?" "He's an ex-con. He isn't going to cooperate with us even if he didn't do something illegal," Chief Calhoun answered. "So should we see if there is any connection between him and Maria?" Detective Stafford asked. Chief Calhoun answered, "Yes." Detective Daniels said, "We haven't found Maria Menendez yet." "See if she's hiding out at Samuel's place," Chief Calhoun said. He rubbed his chin and then said, "Let's leak a news story about this to the paper. Ask them not to mention that he's an ex-con. We'll see if that stirs up anything. We can play the ex-con angle later." Detective Daniels said, "It sounds like you really want this guy." "You didn't see what he did to his wife," Chief Calhoun said with a look of disgust on his face. "I don't want him in my town. He belongs in prison." The white pickup truck turned into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Samuel parked in the spot right in front of his apartment. He stepped out and walked to the mailboxes. He picked up his mail and headed to his apartment. He was about halfway there when Detective Stafford blocked his way. Samuel looked up and stared the detective in the eye. His face remained emotionless. Without greeting Samuel, Detective Stafford asked, "Where's Maria Menendez?" Samuel shrugged his shoulders. Wanting to break through that wall of silence, Detective Stafford asked, "Where is she?" "Ask the manager," Samuel answered. He continued to stare into the eyes of the detective. "I'm asking you," Detective Stafford said. Having those dead eyes bore into his was beginning to make him angry. Samuel shrugged his shoulders. Letting his anger get the better of him, Detective Stafford said, "I think that she is hiding in your apartment." Samuel looked down at the ground and shook his head. His facial expression remained blank. Detective Stafford said, "I want to search your apartment." Samuel shook his head. He said, "Get a warrant." Forty minutes later Samuel was seated in the interrogation room waiting for Detective Stafford to begin questioning him. He had spent some of the time examining the two pieces of mail that had been in his mailbox. One was a very official looking notice informing him that he had qualified for a low interest mortgage. He hadn't applied for a mortgage. The other piece of mail was a request from a charity for money. The two pieces of mail now rested in a trashcan ripped into little pieces. Detective Stafford was about to enter the room when Detective Daniels stopped him. Detective Daniels said, "We found Maria while you were waiting for Samuel Reynolds." "Where?" "She checked into the psych ward of the hospital early this morning," Detective Daniels answered. Seeing the expression on the other officer's face, he added, "She had a nervous breakdown as a result of the assault yesterday. We won't be able to talk to her until the doctor clears it." "Did we get a warrant to search his apartment?" Detective Stafford asked. "No and we can't get one now. No cause," Detective Daniels answered. "Let's go in and talk to Mr. Reynolds." The pair of detectives entered the interrogation room. They took seats to each side of the middle aged man. Detective Stafford said, "We want to find out what is going on between you and Maria." Samuel stared at the center of the table. Detective Daniels asked, "How long have you and Maria been lovers?" The questioning continued for almost two hours without Samuel saying a single word. His blank expression never changed. He didn't complain about being hungry or thirsty. He didn't protest his treatment. He just sat there staring at the center of the table. Convinced more than ever that he was hiding something, the two detectives left the room frustrated by his lack of response. Detective Stafford said, "We're getting nowhere." "We might as well be talking to a log," Detective Daniels said. He had never seen anything like it. No one could sit still for two hours without fidgeting even once. "We'll have to let him go," Detective Stafford said. They were going to have to get the answers to their questions in a less direct manner. "The Chief is not going to be happy," Detective Daniels said. The two detectives returned to the room. Detective Stafford said, "You're free to go." Samuel stood up and walked to the door. At the door, he turned and asked, "Who is Maria Menendez?" "What?" Detective Stafford asked shocked by the question. Detective Daniels asked, "You don't know who Maria Menendez is?" "No," Samuel answered. "You beat the shit out of her ex-husband last night," Detective Stafford said. Samuel nodded his head and then left the room leaving behind two stunned detectives. Detective Daniels asked, "Do you believe he didn't know who Maria is?" "I can't tell what he's thinking," Detective Stafford said. He snorted and said, "I'm going to the mall and interrogate some manikins. I think I have a better chance of getting one of them to talk than him." The newspaper that night had an article covering all of the details about the events of the previous evening. The article had exactly the opposite effect that Chief Calhoun had wanted. Rather than stirring things up, all discussion about Samuel evaporated. Suggestions concerning the possibility of Samuel having an affair with Maria were met with laughter. No one who knew Samuel could imagine a woman ever giving him a second thought. It was a week before the police finally managed to question Maria. She claimed that she had never met Samuel before the night he had protected her from her ex-husband. She even said that she didn't know who he was until she had read the newspaper article about the attack. She tended to get hysterical when pressed too much about details of that night. The detectives had to accept that she was a dead end. Surveillance of Samuel Reynolds led the detectives to conclude that he had to be the most boring person in the world. Samuel's life appeared to involve nothing more than going to work and sitting at home. It didn't take them long to determine that he didn't have cable television or internet. He had never been observed purchasing alcohol in any form. Each Saturday he went grocery shopping and did his laundry. Even the times when he performed those simple activities were the same from week to week. Two months after the incident in the parking lot, Chief Calhoun, Detective Stafford, and Detective Daniels met in the conference room. Chief Calhoun asked, "What have you got?" "Nothing," Detective Stafford answered. "Everyone calls him the dead man walking. From what I can tell, it is an accurate description of him. If I believed in zombies, I would say that he is the poster child for zombie-hood," Detective Daniels said. "What do you mean?" "He does nothing and I mean nothing," Detective Stafford said. "What about a phone tap?" Chief Calhoun asked. "He doesn't have a telephone." "We've never seen him make a telephone call from a public telephone," Detective Daniels said. "Who does he talk to?" Chief Calhoun asked. Detective Stafford answered, "No one. He talks to no one. He doesn't talk to his neighbors. He doesn't talk to his coworkers. He doesn't talk to the clerk at the store. He doesn't even visit whores. The only report that we've had of him dealing with anything alive is that he feeds a stray cat at lunch." "I can't believe that," Chief Calhoun said. Humans were social animals. Detective Stafford said, "According to his boss, Maria stopped by to thank Samuel for saving her. Samuel shrugged his shoulders and walked off." Nodding his head in agreement, Detective Daniels said, "His boss was pissed because he was stuck dealing with an emotional woman while Samuel was out shoveling snow." Chief Calhoun asked, "What about Victor Menendez?" "His jaw is still wired shut and his hand is still in a cast. It is going to be a while before he's a threat to anyone. Samuel really screwed him up," Detective Stafford answered. In reviewing the video, he had noticed that as soon as Samuel had disarmed Victor the man had stopped hammering on him. Chief Calhoun said, "I guess we'll have to wrap this up." ------- Chapter 4 Although the sky was clear, the snow was three feet deep on the ground when Samuel returned from his Saturday grocery shopping expedition. He had purchased seven TV dinners, a loaf of bread, a package of lunchmeat, a box of cereal, and a quart of milk. After putting away his groceries, he went to his bed and sat down. He stared at the wall without moving. The elderly woman stopped her car in front of the entrance to the apartment complex. She looked down at a sheet of paper and checked the address. She turned into the parking lot and drove around looking for a specific apartment number. She finally parked next to a white pickup truck. Rather than immediately getting out of her car, the woman sat there staring at the apartment door trying to work up her nerve to approach it. She almost drove off, but didn't. She finally got out of the car and approached the apartment door. It was the only walk that was completely cleared of snow. She shivered when a frigidly cold gust of wind hit her. Samuel had been staring at the distant wall for thirty minutes when there was a knock on the door. He slowly rose and went to the door. He opened the door and looked at the woman standing there. She was bundled up in a heavy coat. Her gray hair was cut short in a utilitarian fashion and was nearly covered by a little knit cap. He didn't say a word; he just stared at her. After looking into Samuel's eyes for a second, the woman took a step back. She had expected to see anger, but not that dead expression. In a quivering voice, she said, "Sammy." "Leave," Samuel said and then closed the door. He returned to his bed and stared at the wall. The woman knocked on the door and shouted, "Sammy!" When he didn't open the door, she sat down on the ground crying. Plaintively, she said, "Sammy. It's me. Open the door. I'm your mother." The woman sat outside his apartment knocking on the door and calling out his name to no effect. The arctic blasts of wind finally drove her to seek shelter from the freezing cold. It was a defeated woman who made her way back to her car. She sat in it with the engine running for half an hour. She cried uncontrollably throughout that time. After getting control over her tears, she took one last look at the apartment door and then drove away. Several hours later, Samuel ate a TV dinner and drank a glass of milk. He washed the dishes and then sat at the table. Breaking from his normal routine, he picked up a pen and started writing in the notebook. ------- When it seemed that the temperature could not get any colder, it just got colder. The thermometer registered temperatures near zero degrees with a wind that was gusting up to thirty miles per hour. The walls of the apartment complex did not seem up to the task of keeping the cold out of the building. The occupants huddled under blankets and crowded around space heaters trying to keep warm. In one of the apartments, a woman with dirty blond hair went to the bathroom leaving her young son alone in the living room watching a cartoon on the television. It was one of his favorites and would distract him for a good thirty minutes. Despite the chill in the room she took a shower. This was going to be a special night with her boyfriend and she had to get ready for her date before the baby sitter arrived. She hoped that something a little more permanent would emerge from the evening with her lover. It was hard being a single mother. Thinking that his stuffed animal was cold, the little boy put it on the space heater. He made several trips upstairs to get his other stuffed animals and piled them on the heater. On the last trip upstairs, he found a toy car that he hadn't played with in ages. Sitting down on the floor he pushed the toy car around making little car noises. The woman ended her shower and dried off. She left the bathroom and went into her bedroom to dress in her date clothes. She was going all out for this date. She put on her best lacy undergarments. She debated for a moment and then decided to wear real stockings rather than panty hose. She covered the sexy package with a slinky black dress. She was modeling her dress in the mirror when she smelled something. It took her several seconds to recognize the odor. Looking around, she tried to figure out what was burning. She opened her bedroom door and saw smoke coming up the stairs. Frantic, she ran to the top of the stairs and looked down. Thick dark waves of smoke billowed up the stairwell. Barely visible through the smoke were flames. It looked like the entire lower floor was on fire. "Baby!" she screamed heading down the stairs where she believed her son was watching television. She ran through the flames getting serious burns on her legs. In the thick smoke, she frantically tried to find her son. She stumbled across the front door and went outside hoping that her son had fled the burning room. The little boy heard his mother screaming and looked up from his toy car. He saw the smoke. Scared, he headed under the bed to hide from the fire. Samuel heard cries of fire from outside his apartment. He put on a coat and went outside. A crowd was gathered in front of an apartment that was near the mailboxes. Two men were holding a woman who was struggling to escape their grasp. More people came out of their apartments to see what was happening. ------- Chapter 5 "I didn't have anyone to contact in case of an emergency so I called you guys," the manager said while walking to the door of the apartment. He had been told that he could enter the apartment, but he wanted to have an independent observer just in case someone wanted to make a big deal out of it. "We appreciate it," Detective Stafford said. The manager turned the key while saying, "It was the damnedest thing I've ever seen. He just walked into that fire. Next thing we know, he throws the kid out the second story window. The kid landed in a snow bank without a scratch on him." "What about Samuel?" Detective Stafford asked while looking at the fire damage at the other end of the building. The fire had melted the snow around the building. The water had frozen in the parking lot turning it into an ice rink. "He never came out of the building. They found part of his body this morning," the manager answered. Although he hadn't seen it, he heard that it had been pretty gruesome. He swung open the door and said, "Here's his apartment." "Thanks," Detective Stafford said. He stepped inside the small efficiency apartment and looked around. There was a twin bed pushed up against a wall with a small table next to it. The bed had a simple blanket spread over it and a single pillow. The table had a lamp and an alarm clock. The manager said, "He didn't have much." Detective Stafford went over to the kitchen table. There was a small stack of notebooks, a check book, and a shoebox of bills. He walked around the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator he found a quart of milk, a package of lunchmeat, and a jar of mustard. He opened the freezer and saw a stack of TV dinners. Shaking his head, he said, "This is pathetic." "He doesn't even have a radio or television," the manager said looking around the room. Detective Stafford went over to the closet and opened the door. There were six uniforms, four shirts, and two pairs of jeans on hangers. The shelf had a dozen pairs of socks and underwear. He said, "He sure didn't spend much on a wardrobe." "Have you found anything that identifies a next of kin?" the manager asked. Detective Stafford looked over at the notebooks and said, "I need to check out the notebooks. Maybe one of them is an address book." Detective Stafford picked up the notebook that was open. One glance let him know that it was some kind of journal. He read the last entry with a frown. He flipped back a few pages and read another entry. An unopened letter fell out. He picked it up and examined the envelope. He said, "That's odd. This was sent to him six months ago and he never opened it." There wasn't a telephone in the apartment. Using his cell phone, he called the station. It took two minutes to get a name and telephone number corresponding to the address. He requested that a police car be dispatched to the address. He closed the cell phone and then said, "We may have found a relative of his." "Good," the manager said. He looked around and said, "I'm glad that you're here. No one would believe that someone didn't clean out the apartment." "You can say that again," Detective Stafford said. He pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. "Aren't we going to leave?" the manager asked. Detective Stafford answered, "I'd rather wait until we hear back from the officer I requested to check out the address." "Okay," the manager said. He pulled out a chair and took a seat. Detective Stafford flipped through the notebook looking over some of the entries. He paused to read one of the longer entries. There was another unopened letter in the notebook. Frowning, he put down the notebook and picked up the next one in the stack. There were three unopened letters in it. He opened the notebook and read the first page. He went through the entire stack of notebooks looking at the first page. He put the last notebook on top of the stack and said, "Shit." "What?" "I better call the chief," Detective Stafford said ignoring the question. ------- Chief Calhoun opened the door and looked at the woman standing there. He recognized her from a long time in the past. He said, "Mrs. Reynolds. I'm Chief Calhoun." "Hello, Officer," Mrs. Reynolds said. "Please come in." "Thank you," she replied. She stepped into the apartment and looked around. Frowning, she said, "It is so empty." "Yes ma'am," Chief Calhoun said. Her lower lip trembled. She said, "I came over here to see him yesterday. He shut the door in my face." "I know," Chief Calhoun said. "How did you know that?" "It was the last entry in his journal," Chief Calhoun said. "You read his journal?" she asked. "Detective Stafford was looking for someone to call. That's how he found an unopened letter from you," Chief Calhoun said. "Unopened?" "Yes. There are a number of letters from you and they are all unopened." The woman appeared to shrink. Covering her eyes with her hands, she said, "Oh God! He never knew." "Knew what?" "You better read the letters," Mrs. Reynolds said feeling sick to her stomach. "You are giving me permission to read them?" Chief Calhoun asked wanting to make sure that he had explicit permission. "Yes. You should read them in the order that I sent them. It will all make sense that way," Mrs. Reynolds said. She looked around for a chair to sit on. When she didn't find one, she went over to the bed and sat down on it. Chief Calhoun went over the table and shook the notebooks one by one to get the letters to fall out. He took a minute to organize the letters in the order in which they had been sent. He opened the first envelope and removed the folded letter from it. He read the first few lines and then said, "If I remember correctly, Greg is Samuel's brother." "Did you know them?" Mrs. Reynolds asked. "I was the first officer at the scene of the murder," Chief Calhoun answered. "Just keep reading." Chief Calhoun read the rest of the letter. He said, "Leukemia. Is Greg okay?" "Just keep reading." The next letter described how Samuel's father had died of a heart attack. There was a polite plea for Samuel to get tested to see if he was a suitable bone marrow donor for his brother. He said, "I'm sorry about your husband." "Thank you." "You must have been angry that Samuel never answered this letter," Chief Calhoun said. He could imagine her waiting for a response from Samuel. It must have broken her heart to watch one son suffering from a disease while the other son failed to help. "I was, but you need to read the rest of the letters," Mrs. Reynolds said. The next letter was a much less polite request for Samuel to get tested. There was even a reference to the murder in the form of demanding that he do the right thing for once in his life. Chief Calhoun asked, "Did Greg contact Samuel about this?" "Just keep reading," Mrs. Reynolds answered. She stood up and said, "I need to get something to drink to settle my stomach." "There's not much in his kitchen. You've got your choice of milk or tap water," Chief Calhoun said. "I'll have to go with tap water," Mrs. Reynolds said. He picked up the next envelope and opened it. He unfolded the letter and read it. This was a blistering demand that Samuel help save his brother. The language employed did not hide the fact that the family believed that the brother who was a murderer should be forced to save the life of the brother who was a saint. He hoped that he never received such a pointed letter as this one. Chief Calhoun opened the next letter. He expected it to be a continuation of the previous letter. Instead it started with an apology for the past two letters. His thoughts were interrupted when Mrs. Reynolds said, "I am making some coffee. Would you like some?" "That would be nice," Chief Calhoun answered looking up from the letter. It took him a few seconds to find where he had left off reading. After reading the next line he swore, "Jesus H. Christ." "I take it you just read about the confession," Mrs. Reynolds said. She fumbled with a coffee cup. The sound of the cup breaking filled the silence from the other room. "Greg killed Samuel's family?" Chief Calhoun asked staring at the letter like it had just turned into a deadly snake. He had been so sure that Samuel had done it. "Yes," Mrs. Reynolds answered in a soft voice that was nearly drowned out by the gurgles of the coffee maker. Chief Calhoun poured over the letter looking for an explanation about how the murder had been committed. He was disappointed that the rest of the letter was filled with remorse about how she had treated Samuel. There was a single line at the bottom of the letter saying that Greg had allowed the confession to be recorded in case Samuel wanted to hear it. He read the letter twice making sure that he hadn't missed something. He ripped open the last envelop. The letter inside contained two lines, "Greg is dead. May he rot in hell for what he's done to our family." "Milk or sugar?" Mrs. Reynolds asked. "Both," Chief Calhoun answered staring at the last letter. He sat there remembering his initial entry into Samuel's house and finding the bodies. As a young officer on the force, this was his first experience with a murder. He had run out of the house and thrown up in the bushes. His partner had interviewed Greg. He remembered Greg saying over and over, "I hope that Samuel didn't do this." Mrs. Reynolds placed a cup of coffee in front of him. She took a seat across the table and said, "I imagine that you want to know how it happened." "Yes," Chief Calhoun answered. He took a sip of the coffee and then remembered his manners. He said, "Thank you for the coffee." She took a deep breath and then said, "I never realized just how much Greg envied his younger brother. Greg was the athletic son and Sammy was the smart one. When they were in high school, Greg was popular but all that changed after he graduated. He ended up in a low paying job. After Sammy graduated high school, he earned twice as much as Greg. He was even smarter with his money. "Sammy married a beautiful woman. She was pretty in the way that men liked. She could have been a playmate. They had two wonderful kids and everyone just loved them. They lived in a little rental house in a rundown neighborhood, but Sammy was building an amazing house out in the country. He really had a future ahead of him. "On the other hand, Greg was having problems getting dates. He had a tendency to drink a little too much and that was a big drain on his money. He was renting a smaller place right behind Sammy's house." "I can see why Greg might have been a little jealous, but I don't see that leading to murder," Chief Calhoun said. Mrs. Reynolds said, "Greg started chasing after Jennifer whenever Sammy wasn't around. He would flirt with her and try to talk her into bed. She kept pushing him away. The more she pushed, the more aggressive he became. It was really bothering her, but she didn't dare tell anyone about it. She knew that Samuel would kill his brother if he were to ever learn about it. She hinted to me one day that she was worried that one day Sammy was going to learn some dark secret that would make him murderous. "I misinterpreted what she meant. I assumed that she had done something wrong and that she was terrified Sammy would discover it. I even testified to that in court." "I remember that," Chief Calhoun said. Her testimony had basically nailed the case shut. She took a moment to collect her emotions. She said, "On the day of the murder, Sammy went off to work on the house like he did every Saturday. He hadn't been gone for more than five minutes when Greg went over to the house. He basically pushed his way in and demanded that Jennifer sleep with him. When he grabbed her breast, she got furious and said that she was going to tell Sammy what he had done. "Greg said that he went over to Sammy's desk and took out the gun that was kept there. He pointed it at her intending to just threaten her with it. He says that he accidently shot Jennifer in the face. It was only after he had shot her that he realized the two kids had been watching. He killed them so that no one would learn that he had killed Jennifer." "My God," Chief Calhoun said. "What did he do then?" "He went back home. He knew that I was supposed to watch the kids while Jennifer went grocery shopping that afternoon. I kept calling Jennifer without getting an answer. I finally called him to ask that he check on her. He had been waiting for that call all afternoon. He went over to the house, pretended to discover the bodies, and then called the police," Mrs. Reynolds said. Chief Calhoun said, "I was so sure that Samuel had done it." "We all were. My husband was so angry that he wanted to kill Sammy. I swore that I would never forgive him for killing those beautiful children," she said. A tear rolled down her cheek. She asked, "Do you know what really makes me feel guilty?" "What?" "We didn't post bail for him. We refused just so that he couldn't go to the funeral," she said. Her voice broke when she said the final word. Her emotions ran away from her and she broke down crying. Chief Calhoun looked around for some tissues. Not finding any, he went into the bathroom and removed the roll of toilet paper from the holder. Returning to the kitchen, he tore off some paper and handed it to her. He could understand how she felt. Samuel's punishment for a crime that he didn't commit started the day the crime had been committed. He had lost his wife, his children, his family, his friends, his freedom, and spent eighteen years in prison. His punishment appeared to have continued after his release from prison. When Mrs. Reynolds recovered, Chief Calhoun asked, "Why did you come over here yesterday?" "My daughter-in-law divorced Greg ten years ago and I haven't seen the grandkids since then. I lost my husband eight months ago. I chased away my good son twenty three years ago and watched my evil son die six months ago. I was lonely and couldn't take being alone anymore," she answered. "I hoped that I could earn Sammy's forgiveness." "I'm sorry that he didn't talk to you," Chief Calhoun said. Mrs. Reynolds was silent for a minute thinking about what could have been. She asked, "How did Sammy die?" "I think a better question is -- when did he die?" ------- The End ------- Posted: 2009-10-30 Last Modified: 2009-11-03 / 01:09:07 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------