by Nadirah Foxx
It had to be right again.
I closed my eyes and let the darkness consume me.
2
Rough Road
Going to Josh’s high-rise home was easier than facing my new reality. Maybe if Ryan had listened to me and moved us into the Liberty Towers downtown, he’d be alive.
That was ugly and false.
Crime didn’t discriminate. Those thugs could have murdered my family anywhere. Contrary to some beliefs, the address wasn’t important to a thief. Criminals were intelligent. They knew that valuables could be in any place. The accepted theory, however, was that top-tier locations housed innumerable wealth.
Take Josh’s apartment.
It was a serious step up from the rundown home he lived in as a kid. Every spacious square inch of the apartment was expertly decorated. To the casual observer, it resembled a showroom. If a crook cased the building, they wouldn’t see the flaws and evidence of my friend’s slovenly ways. They’d only look at a vast array of riches.
Ordinarily, I was self-sufficient. I wasn’t one of those females who fell apart at the drop of a hat, but the night I lost Ryan and RJ was different. Suddenly, I wanted someone to take care of me but not my mother. She was the stereotypical woman during times of grief.
A few years prior a thug gunned down my father while on duty. Mom turned into a basket case. Anyone who came around us held her hand and spoke softly to her. People treated my mom as if she was as fragile as rice paper. I didn’t want that. If I called her, she’d show up ready to pamper me while lamenting about how she felt when Dad died.
My mother-in-law was no better. She dealt with death by shoving it under a rug. When she lost her parent, Mrs. King refused to face the facts. She kept acting as if her mom would come home any minute. The woman was as delusional as a schizophrenic serial killer.
Mourning my losses wasn’t an opportunity to sprinkle on cheer and act as if the next day would be better. Little did I know, but happiness would no longer darken my doorstep. The emotion became forgotten in the chaos.
Looking back on that night, details had escaped my memory, but I remembered enough. I recalled how Josh carried me from his car. Stepping on the elevator, however, didn’t register.
I vaguely recollected the half-eaten containers of food. I could only assume he was eating his dinner when he received the call.
Did I walk into the guest bedroom, or did he carry me? As I stared down at the pajama top in my hands, the particulars evaded me. My lips moved, but my voice sounded foreign to me. What was I saying?
“Get changed for bed, Kerrie.”
“Huh?” I squinted up at him.
“I thought you’d be more comfortable in that.” He gripped the doorknob tightly. “I’ll bring you something to help you sleep.” Josh closed the door behind him.
Slowly, I tugged the sweatshirt over my head. Everything hurt—my muscles, my bones, even my damn thoughts. I’d always considered myself to be strong. If anyone needed a take-charge type of gal, I volunteered. But this… How the hell would I live without the love of my life and our son?
I slumped to the mattress and stared at the plush carpeted floor. As if I somehow summoned it, the grizzly scene began playing on a torturous loop in my mind.
An empty casing.
Blood.
So much blood.
Someone shouting.
Collapsing to the ground.
Feeling Ryan’s cold neck.
And then the shrieking.
“Kerrie!” Josh kneeled in front of me.
Reality hit. I didn’t imagine screaming. I was screaming.
My friend took the garment from me. “Let me do this.”
“I-I’m sorry. I tried to get dressed, but I couldn’t make my arms work.” My loss had turned me into a blithering idiot.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“When did you…” The words died on my tongue. Stringing together a coherent sentence was no longer possible. I simply moved when he instructed me to—lifting my arms, lowering them, and stepping out of my pants.
The procedure was agonizingly slow, but eventually, Josh helped me to bed. Then, he handed me two tablets and a bottle of water.
“Please take them.”
I looked at his palm.
“They’re just over-the-counter sleeping pills. I take them when I’m having a lousy night.”
Of course, he had bad nights. He was a troubled teen whose past still tormented him. Change didn’t happen because he became an adult.
“Sleep is the best thing for you right now. Okay?”
I nodded and swallowed the dose. It was all I could do.
Josh reached for the container, set it on the nightstand, and tucked me in like a child. Sitting beside me, he wiped away the tears still spilling down my cheeks.
“I am so sorry, Kerrie. No one should have to go through this.” His voice broke. “Ryan was a good man. He didn’t deserve—”
“No, he didn’t! And neither did our son.” I shifted onto my side and allowed my tears to lull me to sleep.
◆◆◆
In the middle of the night, my memories awakened me. Frantically I looked around the room, unsure of where I was. My mind kept telling me something was wrong. Why wasn’t RJ crying? He wasn’t sleeping soundly, often waking up in the wee hours of the morning. Then, I felt the other half of the bed. It was cold. No one was there. Where was Ryan?
The events unfolded like a house of cards tumbling down.
Blood…bullets…bodies…Police…Coroner.
Pain, like nothing I had before, funneled into my heart. The agony coursed through me, finally stopping at my skull. As my mind struggled to make sense of everything, my face began aching. It was dull at first but quickly turned into intense stabs. Gasping for air, I tried to rise but got caught up in the sheets. Flailing and screaming, I beat the mattress, wanting desperately to escape my reality.
In the distance, a door burst open. Arms wrapped around me. When I heard Josh’s voice, I knew I was safe.
“It will be okay, Kerrie. We’ll get through this.”
I shook my head vehemently. “It won’t be okay. I won’t be okay. Never again.”
Josh held me. “You think that now, but this will pass. I promise you.”
My sobbing continued.
“You should get some sleep. Maybe something hot…”
He started to stand. I latched onto his shirt. “Don’t go. Please. I don’t want to be alone.”
“You’re never alone. You have me and your mom. We’re here for you.” He leaned back against the headboard, bringing me with him. He pulled the covers over us and kissed my cheek. “Just sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”
I trusted him.
Josh was my rock. The only one I had left.
◆◆◆
Morning shined a different light on my situation, and it wasn’t favorable. The detective assigned to the case arrived bright and early to take the statement I couldn’t give the night before.
“Is that all you can recall, Kerrie?”
I stared at the man for what felt like hours. He disgusted me with his stained shirt, dirty fingernails, greasy hair, and his general antipathy for deodorant. Why on earth did the captain assign my case to a buffoon?
Josh intervened. “Yeah. You have the details along with last night’s police report. If there’s nothing else…”
The inept man received the message. He shoved to his feet and ambled toward the door. Looking over his shoulder, he added, “I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”
As soon as he was gone, I yelled, “Does Captain Stratham dislike me that much?”
Thankfully, my comment didn’t require explaining. Josh said, “I’d say hate was a better word. That detective doesn’t look capable of tracking down breadcrumbs.”
Something, almost undetectable, shifted within me. It was the realization the cops would not help me find justice. It didn’t sit well with me, but what could I do about it?
I was too raw inside to cope with the truth. There was too much to be done, and I wasn’t up to any of the tasks, so I permitted my friend to deal with whatever I couldn’t endure. He helped my mother and in-laws arrange the funerals. Burying my family, knowing I’d never see them again, was hard as fuck. I lost my husband and child on the same damn day.
Instead, I tried to move beyond the pain, anger, and frustration. The only way to do it was to compartmentalize everything. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to function. I’d become the basket case my mother was for years.
I couldn’t… I would not walk in her shoes.
Life had to continue on. I was a widow, and the public had certain expectations of me. One of those included the necessary mourning attire. I had plenty of LBDs to choose from along with trousers and blouses. At the house. Everything was at the house.
Josh offered to go for me, but I had to do it. He’d had someone pick up my car, which made returning to Liberty Heights easier. It didn’t, however, facilitate driving.
Every few seconds, I fingered the necklace I wore. The cobalt-blue gem, an anniversary gift from Ryan, set in a circle of diamonds hung from a sterling silver chain. Normally, when I became anxious, the act alone calmed me. With Ryan’s murder, touching the piece of jewelry was a desperate need to reconnect with him.
The closer I got to home; my anxiety worsened. My hands shook, and a sense of dread seized me as I pulled into the driveway. Seeing the black Navigator brought back the events, like flashes of memory, but I pushed past them.
It didn’t surprise me when I discovered the SUV locked. Probably Josh’s doing. I checked my keyring, found the fob, and unlocked the vehicle. Ryan’s laptop, still in its bag, was behind the driver’s seat. Dragging it out, I snagged on a toy belonging to RJ.
My chin trembled, and the tears started up again. Maybe I should have insisted someone come with me.
Stay strong, Kerrie. Ryan would expect it.
The voice of reason won, and I backed out of the vehicle, slamming the door. Hooking the bag’s strap over my shoulder, I entered the house from the front door.
Whoever Josh hired had worked fast. Everything was clean again as if nothing ever happened.
I inhaled and exhaled a few times before climbing the stairs. Rather than checking the other rooms, I went straight to the master bedroom. Although my blood-stained clothing had been removed, I remembered everything that took place.
Quickly, I took out a suitcase from the closet and began pulling garments from hangers, not bothering to fold anything. I paused when I reached Ryan’s side.
I stared at the collection of suits. How was I supposed to give those away? What if I saw someone else wearing one?
No.
Too soon.
I’d deal with it later.
Honestly, there was no rush. Those things could hang in the closet for eternity—like a museum to my husband’s greatness.
I was ready to go, but I couldn’t get the luggage closed. Honestly, I didn’t realize I had packed so much. Common sense should have told me to stop, but I didn’t. I kept pushing on the lid as if it would magically shut.
“Close, damn you!” I shouted and pounded the suitcase over and over again.
“It won’t work that way,” he said from behind me.
I froze and then looked up at Josh. “How did you know where to find me?”
He pulled my hands away from the luggage and began folding the items.
“I didn’t think you’d go into the station, and Sentinel Security is closed too.” My friend rearranged the clothing so that everything fit. “I called your mother. She said she’d like to help, by the way.”
“Right. Her help would come with a fist full of tranquilizers.” I went to the closet and found a second suitcase. “Use this.”
Josh took it and placed it on the bed while I pulled out a couple of duffel bags.
“You do realize I can have someone do this for you?”
“I know, but I’m just grabbing my shit.”
Josh lifted an eyebrow. “Kerrie?”
“Don’t give me that look.” Anyone who knew me knew I rarely swore.
“You—”
“Damn…shit…fuck!” I snapped. “There! Happy? Little Kerrie King knows how to swear!”
“O-kay,” Josh said with a hint of hesitation.
“You might as well get used to it,” I said in a lowered tone. “Sweet innocent Kerrie is gone. Those assholes killed her when they killed Ryan and RJ.” My lip quivered, and I was crying again. So much for being a badass.
Instead of comforting me, Josh continued folding my clothes. Maybe he’d figured it was best to let me get it all out, which in retrospect was a good thing. It prepared me for the next phase.
◆◆◆
The fucking funerals.
There were so many people. Faces I barely knew. Voices I had never heard before. Everyone wanted to deliver words of comfort to me.
Josh sat beside me on the front row of the church. Mom—dressed in a simple black suit, dark hose, and sturdy black pumps—was on my left side. My mother-in-law, Gertrude, didn’t appreciate being second fiddle. She wanted to stand in Josh’s place.
Too bad. She’d get over it.
At some point, I tuned out. I couldn’t listen to another accolade about my spouse. When it was time to give the eulogy, I nearly chickened out.
He squeezed my hand. “You can do it, Kerrie.”
Correction. I had to do it.
I pushed my shoulders back and summoned more courage than I had. Somehow, I made it to the podium without tripping or falling apart.
As I looked out at the audience—at least a hundred people had shown up—I recognized reading what I wrote wouldn’t do. That speech would spend its eternity in a compost heap.
I gripped the edges of the lectern and swallowed hard. “First off, thank you for coming today. It means a lot to me and my family that you came to pay your respects. We knew Ryan Michael King as an accomplished man. He built Sentinel Security from the ground up to be the embodiment of a dream he had in college. He also believed in integrity.
“He was also a faithful partner and a wonderful father. I suppose, in some twisted sense of fate, it was apropos he died clutching his son.” My voice cracked. “Ryan used to claim that RJ was so much like him…”
My knees wobbled, and I was pretty sure I was close to passing out. Instead, I took a deep breath and started again. “Look, I could tell you the same old tired lines people say during these ceremonies. You know the ones where individuals gush about how great the deceased was? But, here’s the thing. All of you know that so why am I going to reiterate it? Common thugs stole my husband and child from me. With every ounce of strength I possess, I will secure justice for them.”
I stepped away from the platform to whispered disbelief. Josh reached for me when I returned to the pew.
“Job well done,” he said near my ear.
My mom and Gertrude gave me frosty stares.
3
Pushing Forward
Overcast skies turned rainy as we left the church. The cooler weather, at last feeling like fall, seemed appropriate for laying loved ones to rest.
Ryan preferred the season. He called it the Goldilocks time of year. It wasn’t too hot or too cold. He said it was just right. I was trying my best to hold on to those happy frivolous memories, but it was hard. Damn hard.
The processional to the cemetery was short and too quiet. Despite my mother-in-law’s objections, she rode in the limo with Mom. Since Josh refused to leave my side, we took his truck to the site. He continued glancing at me, probably wondering if I was okay. I was as good as I would be. If I said anything, I’d shed more tears, and I was so done with crying.
After the burial, I plastered on a thankful expression. An endless cavalcade of mourners showed up to offer their condolences. Josh and Mom got me through it. Ryan’s family, stoic as ever, smiled and shook hands.
I was grateful for the support, but what I genuinely craved was for it to stop. Sadly, it was the nature of funerals. The barrage kept going like that little energetic rabbit.
Every hour of every day and night they arrived.
They appeared with dishes and flowers and sympathies.
They came with so many regrets and kind words.
On some level, I was sure those utterances were genuine, but I couldn’t acknowledge them.
So I smiled.
I smiled as if I were a raving lunatic fresh out of the asylum.
And I prayed for deliverance.
Because I knew, deep down, my life would get worse before it would be better. Justice was waiting. I didn’t know how it would happen, only that it would. And when that bitch served up her brand of righteousness, it would include me.
My existence had changed. I couldn’t be the same woman I had been. That version was dead and buried. Somehow, I had to remake myself. I’d become stronger, less tolerable, and unstoppable. The question was: how?
Yes, I’d rise like the proverbial phoenix from its ashes. It would have to keep for another time. Until it happened, I had to wade through the quagmire of people gathered in Gertrude’s living room. I wished someone to either throw me a preserver or an anchor. I was so damn lost.
Not just lost but angry. I was no longer in tune with my sadness. My emotions had flipped to the dark side. There were only two things I wanted, revenge and peace. More and more strangers turned to me, wanting to go down memory lane. I had buried my husband and my son. Why on earth would I want to engage in arrant chit-chat?
“Excuse me, everyone.” Josh grasped my elbow and cut a path through the crowd. “We don’t mean to be rude, but the boss needs Kerrie at the precinct.”
We didn’t stop until we reached his vehicle.
“What’s happened? Have they found the murderers?”
Josh motioned for me to get inside. Once I was seated, he cranked the engine and pulled away from the curb. “I’m sorry for lying, but you looked as if you needed rescuing.”
