7PM - Jack (A 5PM Short Story)

by Chris Heinicke

  7PM

  JACK

  A 5PM Short Story

  By CHRIS HEINICKE

  COPYRIGHT PAGE © 2016 Chris Heinicke

  7PM-Jack (A 5PM Short Story)

  By Chris Heinicke

  Cover Design by Rebecca Berto, Berto Designs

  Manuscript Services—Editing & Interior Design by

  Rogena Mitchell-Jones, Literary Editor

  www.rogenamitchell.com

  All Rights Reserved

  This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the properties of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Both author and editor have taken great effort in presenting a manuscript free of errors. However, editing errors are ultimately the responsibility of the author. This book is written in Australian English, therefore, includes Australian diction.

  To my dear wife Glenda, whose love, support,

  and belief in me helped make this novel possible.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  There was once a time when I gave a shit. When my life had a compass, a purpose, and there was only one woman I ever truly loved. But this is not a love story; this is the story of how I came to be the empty shell people know me as now.

  I served my time in the armed forces, joining up the day after I finished school, and quickly transferring to the Marines when I showed extreme fitness, strength and survival skills. I rose swiftly through the ranks, served two tours in Afghanistan and came back home and was honourably discharged.

  But the world became a different place for me after Afghanistan. An ocean of faces in my city appeared through my eyes as an inhospitable tsunami, and the sounds of gunshots would have me looking through my bedroom window for hours in search of the perpetrator of such noise.

  My one bedroom apartment, clean, spacious, and affordable on my gym manager’s salary, didn’t prevent the darkness of night; it served only to remind me of how lonely my life had become. I lived in one of the biggest cities in the world, constantly surrounded by people. But through my eyes, each one of the eight and a half million faces in my city seemed to cement my place as an outsider.

  It hadn’t always been the case. Melinda used to be the beacon of light pulling me to safety from the bleak storms of my life. I used to wonder what she saw in me, a grumpy, paranoid, stone-faced ex-soldier with diminutive humour and little experience in romance. But she rescued me at a time when my soul needed a life raft to save it from the river threatening to smash me into the rocks.

  I was there when the planes hit, albeit from a safe distance. I saw a man stabbed to death for his shoes, a woman nearly raped in a dark alley and many a person jump from one of the many giant buildings which fill my city’s skyline. I’ve seen the homeless on the streets as I waded through the night, the couples holding hands and glancing at each other like nothing could ever upset their perfect world and the women who walked alone and kept their head low as someone walked their way.

  I’m a big guy with a face capable of scaring away would-be muggers. When I walk in their direction, do these lone women fear I’m the type of man who would take them and do the worst acts ever? I used to worry about what people saw when they looked at me, but one day, I helped a lady recover her stolen handbag, and in return, she gave me the best year of my life.

  ******

  “You never cook dinner. Should I be worried?” Melinda asked me as she unlocked and came through the door to our apartment, smelling the roast I had in the oven.

  “I just thought it was about time I gave it a try.” I smiled as she slid over to me, leaning in for a kiss while I stirred the gravy on the stove.

  “Well, I think I could get used to this, coming home from the office and inhaling the scent of meat cooking in the oven while looking at the hottest hunk of man meat standing to greet me in his shorts and tight fitting shirt.”

  I always thought she was way too kind. Keeping in shape since leaving the forces had been a struggle, but I managed to fit in a run and a little bit of weight training amongst my time managing the gym. But fitness is important to me, and with a woman a few years younger with such an appetite for sex as Melinda, I wanted to be around and able to continue to make her happy. I wondered what I did to deserve her, a beautiful, vivacious and high-flying businesswoman. Most people thank me for saving them from a mugger, or retrieving stolen items, but Melinda wanted me in her life. I tried not to over analyse the situation and instead, just attempted to enjoy it. I’m not a shallow man. I don’t sleep with just anyone. There is so much more to this woman than a beautiful face and body and incredible libido.

  I loved her mind and the passion she showed for all living things, her true beauty.

  “Please take a seat and wait for your meal to be served, Miss.” I winked at her.

  She smiled back at me, and I truly hoped for the night to go the way I had envisioned it. With everything set in place, I had invested a lot of time in getting it all right, desiring above everything for the result I aimed for.

  “As long as the food is as hot as you, I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

  I watched as she kicked off her shoes and walked into the lounge area, fixing herself a glass of red wine. As she took a seat, I watched her slide along the couch and unbutton the top two buttons of her blouse and not caring while her skirt slid up revealing her underwear. I’m a tough and disciplined man, but I swore if she kept wiggling like that and exposing more skin, the temptation would be too high to resist taking her right then in the lounge room.

  I finished cooking the three-course meal, calling her into the dining area while placing the raw oysters on our table. We shared a dozen of the freshly caught delicate morsels and a little conversation about our day.

  “So what’s the occasion, Jackie?” she asked me as the last of the entrée was demolished.

  “Don’t you remember that day twelve months ago?”

  “Of course I do. I was teasing.” We shared a laugh, and I got up to serve the main course. I hoped to hell I hadn’t overbaked the chunk of beef or any of the vegetables. I didn’t cook very often, but when I did, I treated it with the same passion as everything else, and being a perfectionist doesn’t help.

  I carved off a little of the meat, sneaking in a taste test, and without sounding conceited, I had no choice but to celebrate its deliciousness.

  “Smells wonderful, honey. You should do this more often,” Melinda called out.

  She was right. I had no excuse but for my own self-doubt. I chuckled at her remark and served the main course of dinner.

  ******

  Maybe still caught up in the puppy love stage of our relationship, there were still times when I stared into those chocolate coloured eyes as she talked to me, and I could barely hear the words she spoke. With all three courses consumed, we enjoyed our second glass of the bottle of cabernet sauvignon I had saved for the occasion. I don’t drink very often, and while two glasses are by no means enough to make me drunk, I began to feel lightheaded with a silly grin plastered on my face.
>
  “I think we need more of that wine. It’s making me feel kind of…” she says, bequeathing a knowing wink.

  Finally, the time had arrived.

  “Let me take a look in the cellar.” I stood and departed the dining table, taking slow deep breaths. I kept telling myself this is what I wanted, praying she felt the same. I had walked into gunfights in a land I didn’t know with far less trepidation than I felt before taking such a gamble with the woman I loved.

  I grabbed the box and returned to Melinda with my hands behind my back. “I couldn’t find another bottle suitable, but I found this.” I presented the box to her and opened it while getting down on one knee.

  “Melinda Reynolds, fate found us and gave us each other, and I don’t want to do anything to disappoint fate in return. The only way I can truly show my appreciation to fate is to make sure I have you in my life always. We’ve shared so much, and you gave me what I thought I would never find, and what I didn’t realise I’d been missing until you gave it to me. So please, Melinda, will you be my wife?”

  Tears freefell down her face, and I swallowed hard awaiting her answer. Her lips moved, but she seemed unable to say anything. Instead, she nodded and allowed me to slide the ring on her finger, fitting snugly. I got to my feet. She did the same and reached her arms around me as her mouth met mine. My overactive brain almost sighed with relief as I realised this was really happening.

  After what seemed to last a minute or two, she released her mouth from mine. “Like there was any chance I would say no.”

  We both laughed. She grabbed my hand to lead us to the bedroom.

  ******

  When Melinda and I made love, it sometimes turned into a two-hour session while at other times, it turned into a five-hour event. But after my successful marriage proposal, we didn’t get much sleep at all before my six a.m. alarm pulled me from my sleep. I needed to be at the gym in an hour to coach a fitness circuit class, and I thanked the fact I was super fit to get me through. Melinda stirred, but obviously, her subconscious told her it wasn’t her turn to get out of bed.

  I showered and dressed in my personal trainer clothes, and checked in on my future wife, all snuggled up in bed with the covers up past her shoulders keeping her naked body warm against the cold morning’s menacing chill. I stroked her hair and kissed her cheek, and a tear formed as I took in the most beautiful sight. I felt like the luckiest man alive. The class I teach would go for an hour, and I could get back in time to have breakfast with Melinda before her turn to depart for work.

  I jogged to the gym against the biting chill of the crisp morning air, buoyed by a sense of invincibility achieved through the success of asking Melinda to be my wife. The world seemed a magnificent place after all when a man like me could find love. Of course, the demons residing in the dark areas of my mind would still dwell in their place no matter how much good came into my life, but should they try and make an outward push to the outside world, the positivity of my life would assist me in sedating them.

  Turning the last corner before the street where the gym is located, I nearly crashed into a man in a black hooded top.

  “Sorry about that,” I said as I dodged him at the last second. Not looking up, he continued in his direction without a single reaction from my apology. “Asshole,” I muttered under my breath.

  I continued on my way, unaware of the impact the man with no manners would make on my life.

  ******

  I returned to my apartment. When I approached the door, I noticed it was left slightly ajar, and this was when I ran in and was presented with the most soul-destroying image I’d ever seen. Inside the bedroom, there was blood everywhere—sprayed on the ceiling and walls, pooled on the bed and pouring from the woman who was to be my wife. I fell to my knees howling and crying until I screamed. Melinda looked as though she had been stabbed dozens of times, and I found myself unable to look at her for long. I felt a sickness like never before and paralysing fear.

  “Oh, my God,” I heard after the footsteps stopped just short of me. It was the voice of the woman who had moved in next door just a few days earlier. “I’ll call the cops.”

  I nodded, unable to say anything. I stood up and looked over at the mess made of my love, wishing it to be nothing but a bad dream.

  But it wasn’t. This was as real as shit gets. I couldn’t believe I had stood at the top of the world a couple of hours earlier only to be dragged into the depths of hell on the same day. Which led me to ask myself something—how the hell did her killer get in?

  “They’re on their way, Jack. Come next door and have a coffee while we wait,” the lady said to me.

  “Coffee? My future wife is lying here dead, and I’m supposed to leave her to have a coffee?”

  “Jack, please. I’m just trying to—”

  “Help? I’m gonna go find the fucker who did this, so if you want to help, feel free to take up arms and we’ll go hunting together.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just going to leave you to deal with this, but my door’s always open if you want to talk.”

  She turned and left. I paced up and down the bedroom with my mind spinning and the tears coming and going. Why did Melinda have to die?

  Minutes passed. The sirens wailed louder as the police cars approached the building. I was no stranger to the sounds of emergency vehicles, their presence a constant reminder of the vastness and dangers of our city. Never, though had I imagined they’d be coming for one of us.

  The police officers knocked on the door of my apartment, identifying themselves and displaying their badges. I forgot their names as quickly as they introduced themselves, but I was pretty sure one of the uniformed cops said his name was Ed. He didn’t say much while the two plain clothed detectives started to question me about my whereabouts during the time of the murder, and whether I had changed anything at the crime scene.

  “I swear I didn’t do this, detective,” I said to the senior of the pair. “I’ll come down to the station if you wish.”

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you did, but if you’re willing to submit yourself to a DNA test and fingerprints, then we can rule you out.”

  I nodded. I had nothing to hide and knew as soon as they entered my name into the databases, they’d see my service record and zero criminal convictions. They had a job to do, and I wanted to do everything I could to help find the person responsible. At that moment, I came to the realisation I wanted to find the person myself.

  More police officers entered, and I noticed one of them taking photos while another checked over the body of Melinda. I needed to get out and get some fresh air.

  “Are you okay, sir?” Ed asked me.

  “No, I’m not. And I don’t think I ever will be.”

  “Sorry, I meant you look sick. I’ll come with you.” He smiled at me.

  We walked to the stairs, taking the trip down to the ground level, not exchanging a word until reaching the pavement outside.

  “Hey, I see this shit all the time, and I still don’t get used to it. Smoke?”

  He holds a packet of Marlboros, and I break my five-year ban of the terrible habit and reach for one and light it up. As I inhale, I welcome the fumes all the way to my lungs, knowing my body will hate me for such a bad decision. But it calmed me for a moment.

  “That’s some pretty sick shit, what he did to your wife.”

  I didn’t bother to correct him on my marital status. I nodded again, noticing his nervousness at my lack of communication.

  Taking a few steps closer to me, he took a long drag on his cigarette and spoke again. “This isn’t the first time he’s done this. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but there have been five victims in the last month. Each victim was found naked, raped, and stabbed several dozen times. Each one with long dark hair and between the age of twenty and thirty, and very pretty.” He took another long puff and continued. “You know we don’t like to use the term serial killer with the public. It creates hysteria, vigilante acti
on, copycats, even a sick kind of hero worship. There are actually women who find these creeps a turn on. But I know you’re a man who understands the chain of command and due process, so you wouldn’t try doing anything you shouldn’t.”

  I cough and discard the butt. Why the hell did this psychopath pick my Melinda? I stepped right up to Ed. “You better make sure you find this fucker before I do.”

  Chapter 2

  Each night, I sat on the roof of my apartment complex, dressed in black to camouflage among the darkness of the city night. I looked down upon this city, waiting for HIM to make himself known to me so I may deal out my own personal brand of justice to him. It had been a week since my love was murdered and facing her family at the funeral was the hardest thing I had ever had to do.

  The autopsy results revealed Melinda had been raped prior to receiving the multiple stab wounds, adding to the horror of her death. I’ve seen war and death and stared at my own demise a number of times during my tour of duty and never flinched. But this terror threatened to strangle the life out of me, and at times, I wished it would finish the job and let me join Melinda in the afterlife.

  I couldn’t do that, though. I needed to find this monster and save someone else from going through the pain I had endured. If I could save just one woman from a similar fate to Melinda’s, maybe I could leave this world having done at least one useful deed.

  Seated in a foldout chair, I could switch the view from night vision to regular through the click of a switch on the side of my binoculars. Energy drink after energy drink wiped the concept of time from the dark recesses of my mind as I persisted in searching for this needle in the haystack that is New York City. I had nothing else to do, and any sleep missed could be made up in the afternoons.