Murder After Bedtime

Other than my husband snoring next to me in bed as if he were in a tree-cutting competition, the house was finally quiet—a rarity in the Perks’ household. The child hadn’t gotten out of bed for a solid hour, so I crossed my fingers, hoping that meant she was asleep. I rolled over gently and read the clock: 11:13. It was now or never.

Doing my absolute best to only shift my body and not anything else on the bed, I slithered down to the floor and crawled to the staircase. Scooting down the otherwise creaky steps, I made my way to the main floor, shut the bedroom door behind me, ensuring I kept the knob turned until it was flush with the door frame, then rotated it back into neutral, and sneaked out the gliding side door of the house.

It was a cool night. The moon was only a Cheshire cat’s slivered smile. If it weren’t for the lights of the suburbs, it would have been the perfect night for stargazing. Once I got into my car and pushed the “on” button, Pink blasted me away with her song “Never Gonna Not Dance Again” cranked up to a volume level eighteen. After lowering the song down to a more reasonable, non-waking-the-neighborhood decibel, I pulled out of the driveway.

While waiting at the first red light, with no one around me, I fished through my fanny pack, which apparently was the new “it” way to carry a purse, and got my medically prescribed weed gummy and popped it into my mouth. I took this time to reflect on the progressive popularity of the fanny pack. From a geeky accessory when I was a kid to something your grandmother wore to church with wrapped hard candies that tasted like lint, it had eventually evolved into being a staple in the high-end society that is the PTA. To be honest, mine was a gift, but I kept it because it was convenient when I have fifty other bags to cart around daily.

I wondered who was going to be there first. Audrey Sims? The glue or “mom” of the group, who, though, would survive on an island by herself and thrive in her solitude, brought the four of us together. 

Denise Howell was a fierce woman whom I always forget is younger than the rest of the girls in the group, which only makes me secretly envy her confidence, as mine wavers all too often—and I’m almost ten years older than she is. She was almost always the first one at work, rocking out to her tunes or listening to a true crime podcast. It wouldn’t surprise me if she were the first one at the shack.

All I knew for certain was that Valerie Jacobson would be a solid ten minutes late. I use the term “late” loosely, as Val is consistently ten minutes late, so I have to wonder, is it really considered late if everyone knows it will be another 10 minutes until she shows up…anywhere? She is, however, the one who gave us a roof for our weekly sneak-away meetings. Being a realtor—at least for the time being, but a good one at that given how charismatic she was—she found a rundown, little shed in the backyard of one of her client’s houses which they didn’t wish to keep. Instead of destroying it, Val had it moved to the neighborhood’s park. The community fixed it up and accepted it as a “playhouse” for the children, and it was…during the day. But after midnight, we reclaimed it as our “She Shack”.

As I pulled up to the parking lot of the park, a light flickered a few parking spaces down. But as far as I could tell, I was the first one there. Not that I make it a habit to be late, but I was a bit surprised. That’s when I saw lights racing down the street. Denise, no doubt. I waited in the grass in front of my car for her to park so we could walk up together.

With another flicker of the light, someone jumped out from behind me, making me jump out of my skin.

“Gimme all your money.” Valerie’s boisterous voice, lowered in her attempts to make herself sound manly, cleared out what was assuredly a couple of raccoons or rabbits in a nearby bush.

I couldn’t help but shake my head as she crumpled to the ground, curled over in a futile attempt to keep her mommy bladder sealed as laughter controlled her every move.

Denise walked up with a smile. “Wonder how long she’s been waiting.”

“Knowing her, she probably set an alarm to ensure she’d beat someone here and has been waiting for the right moment for a solid two minutes.”

Denise chuckled.

We helped the now giddy and teary-eyed Valerie up to her feet and walked to the shack in the park’s corner. Sure enough, not only was Audrey already there, but she seemed to have been there long enough to crush, pack, and begin smoking her bowl.

“Welcome to the party, bitches,” Audrey said, still holding in the smoke, then blew it out.

Valerie started inhaling the smoke like a vacuum. “It’s okay, Samantha. I’ll save you.” Followed by a couple of coughs.

The group laughed. There was a reason I took gummies rather than smoked. I had a mommy bladder too. All of us did, except for Denise. But for some reason, I was the only one who would cough to the point of throwing up or peeing my pants with the slightest bit of smoke or even cleaning sprays.

“Haha. Very funny.”

“Anybody want a drink?” Denise brought some lemon vodka. Not being a vodka lover myself, I replied, “No thanks.”

Audrey shook her head as she took another hit from her bowl.

“I’m twenty milligrams in.” Val plopped down on a pile of blankets that Audrey always brought from her house.

Everyone else found their seats and buckled up for the first order of business: catching up on all the families’ ups and downs of the week.

“Well, Brandon and I decided on a wedding date.” Denise had just gotten engaged a few months ago. “Not only do I expect you bitches to be there, I better have a grand night out for my bachelorette party, too.”

“I expect a ‘save the date’ like all the other peasants.” Valerie matched Denise’s sass.

“I mean, you could just not come then…” Denise snapped back with a grin on her face.

Valerie picked up a muffin from the pile of food in the middle of the shack and threw it at Denise.

“Now children, play nice.” Audrey shook her head at the two sibling-like adults sitting next to her.

“Hey, Val? How are the kids doing?” I asked.

“Now that’s a loaded question. It all depends on which one you are talking about and what second of the day.”

We waited in anticipation. “Fabulous story, Val. Really.” I laughed as the exhale invited fuzzy lips and a weighted-blanket feeling draped over my body. The gummy from almost an hour ago was finally kicking in.

“Well, the youngest one slept on the floor next to my bed last night after the middle child entertained the crisis team for about forty minutes…oh…and the oldest got his period, so he’s walking around like a storm cloud.”

“So, in other words, you slept great?” I chimed in.

“Yea, like a fucking baby…up every 2 hours!”

“Isn’t Zane taking blockers or something?”

Zane, once known as Anna, was in the process of transitioning from female to male. Valerie and her husband, Connor, had been trucking away with this change for a couple of years now. First, ‘Anna’ went to counseling. This not only helped him but also seemed to put the significance of ‘Anna’s’ mental health in perspective for Valerie and Connor.

Talk about breaking the cycle. The taboo stigma of the pride community heavily influenced our generation’s upbringing. And here were two people stuck in between their beliefs for the past thirty-seven years and the literal life and well-being of their first-born child.

After a year of therapy, ‘Anna’ wanted a change of name, so for the next year, most of the family and friends of the Jacobson family respected that wish. It had cost Valerie her relationship to her brother, but Zane was more important. Just a few months ago, they officially had his name changed and started shifting into his true form rather than Anna’s.

It was astounding to see the change in him and in the family.

“He is. But I guess it takes a few cycles for his body to adapt.”

“I’d imagine it would be similar to a woman starting birth control—it isn’t an instant result.” Audrey stood, only to sit back down on her foot. She’d regret that when she stood up next, hunching and limping like an old woman. But I’m not the one who should be talking. We all do things to our bodies we know we’ll regret, sooner or later.

Denise and I nodded.

I could feel my body sinking and molding into the surrounding surfaces—a confusing feeling, to be honest—like the weight of the day had been lifted and erased, and yet my body was like a warm, weighted blanket.

“What about you?” Valerie made eye contact with Audrey. “How is Janele doing in her last year of school?”

“She’d be great if she actually studied like I know she can.”

“Sounds like she’s come down with a case of senioritis.” Denise was the one of us who had experienced this same feeling in the past decade. “Does she have a boyfriend?”

“I don’t know. For all I know, it’s a girlfriend. I swear, the way she and Mason can shoot the shit about which girl on T.V. is cuter boggles my mind. However, at least I won’t have to worry about her getting pregnant anytime soon, right?”

“Depends.” I reached for my water bottle as my mouth felt like a tacky desert. Once I wet my whistle, I continued, “If she only likes girls, sure…but if she likes both, now you have the whole world to worry about.”

“Thank you so much for that unsettling thought.”

“Anytime.” I laughed.

“Boop. Boop. Boop.”

“You can stop your booping. We have decided, after the holidays, we’ll be enrolling Hailey into public school.” Reading hasn’t been the easiest thing for me to teach my child and to be honest, I felt as though it was getting to the point where I was the one holding her back.

“Wow. Never thought I’d hear that coming out of your mouth.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

“It’ll be good for you both.”

“I hope so.”

After catching up on each family’s doings, we headed to the swing set. There was one for each of us, and the swaying in the chilled night air was a great way to come down from our respective highs. There was no need to talk at this point. The silent night with the stars above was all we needed to think. I say think because I know none of us have a quiet mind. But knowing we had our support near while thinking of life’s many secrets was enough for us. That is, until something disrupted that silence.

The breaking of what sounded like dishes caught all of our attention. At first, we simply looked at each other. As if verifying we all had indeed heard it and to see if anyone was going to move. All of us, typically, had the same philosophy of “Not my monkeys, not my circus.”

But when it happened again, followed by screaming, we all turned our attention to a house where the backyard lights just turned on. Exchanging glances one more time, we decided that sometimes monkeys need assistance.

Springing up from our respective swings, we hunkered down and tiptoed towards the house.

“These must be the Campbells. No. The Collins. Or is it the Connors?”

“Val, I don’t know which’C’ last name it was. Does it really matter?,” Audrey noted.

“Oh, hold on. It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“I believe the last name Val is trying to remember is Curtis.”

“That’s the one,” Val shouted, just enough for all of us to shush her.

“Apparently last names do matter. Sorry. Geez. Anyway, Susan Bennett is her neighbor. I ran into her at the store the other day.”

“Susan gets it around, doesn’t she? That’s who I heard the new neighbor gossip from too. Only, we ran into each other at the gym.”

“Did Susan offer anything else?” Denise asked as we came up to the six-foot fence.

“Well, her first name is Jenny. The husband’s name is Wayne. Last name is Curtis, but I guess we covered that already.They are newlyweds. No kids. Moved from somewhere up north.”

“I heard Michigan.”

“Sure.”

“Did Susan say what they do for a living?”

“Wayne is in car sales. And Jenny is or was, a teacher. But the word is, she’s on sabbatical until the new school year.”

Val finally stopped talking, so half of us glued our ears to the fence, while the other half peeked through the boards. I was in the peeking-through group.

That’s when we saw Wayne throw a punch right at Jenny’s eye, but what came next was not expected. Jenny picked up a stone and swung it at his head. She didn’t stop when he fell onto the grass. She mounted him and hit him in the head with the rock again, and again, and again.

I don’t know who it was—for all I know it was me—but someone gasped. Jenny’s eyes, if it weren’t for the fence, would have locked eyes with us. None of us moved. 

“Help!” Jenny cried. “Please, I need help!”

Knowing perfectly well Jenny knew that we, or rather, someone was nearby, all we could think to do was to come around the house, walk into the house since the door was unlocked, and make our way to the backyard.

There was blood everywhere—on the stone, on the grass and pavement, and on Jenny.

“Please help me,” Jenny cried out once more.

“I’m an EMT. Let me check him.” Audrey checked his pulse from his wrist and then his carotid. She looked up at us and shook her head.

“Like dead dead?” Val blurted.

Denise nudged her with her elbow.

“Don’t nudge me. We just witnessed a murder.”

“From the fence I was looking through, it looked more like self defense to me. I mean, look at her eye.”

“This wasn’t the first time he’s hit me. I don’t know what came over me this time, though.”

“You were done dealing with his ass. No worries about that.” Denise reached out and placed her hand on Jenny’s shoulder. 

“I’m going to get some ice for your eye.” I didn’t ask for permission, just went inside, found the fridge and pulled an ice pack out. I handed it to Jenny, who, in turn, placed it on her eye.

“How long has this been going on?” Audrey asked.

“Ever since we got back from our honeymoon, two months ago. He felt so bad after the first time. We had just pulled up to the house from the airport. He took all our suitcases out of the trunk. Before he got too far, I asked if he could carry me in over the threshold…you know…I just thought it would be cute. He looked at me and started laughing. I asked why he was laughing at me, and he realized I was being serious. As the taxi drove off, he dropped the suitcases in the yard and picked me up, cradling me in his arms. I thought it was sweet. But when we got to the door, he opened it and rammed my head into the door frame. I thought it was an accident until he dropped me on my tailbone in the mudroom, then stormed out. He came back with the bags and threw them at me. ‘Welcome home, honey. Why don’t you unpack and start some damn dinner.’” Jenny started crying. “But he ended up surprising me by taking me out to dinner later that night. He apologized, saying he was just tired from the trip. I forgave him.”

“Fool.” Val blurted. “Sorry. That was my outside voice, wasn’t it?”

“It definitely wasn’t your inside voice—if you even have one of those. But I agree whole-heartedly.”

“Everyone needs to shut up. We are not judging right now, we are listening and mending. Keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“Yes, Mom.” Val saluted as if a soldier. “Here, let me hold your ice pack.”

Audrey shook her head but accepted the silence that followed.

“What the actual fuck are we supposed to do?” I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry or run away or march up to Jenny and slap the bitch. “Call 911?”

“Please, no! I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“We know that. It was self defense.”

“Even so. I’ve never reported him before and he never acted like that towards anyone else. The police won’t believe me. There has to be another way we can get rid of the body.”

“You’re talking about creating another crime to hide this one and not only that, but now you are bringing us into the equation.” One would think I had just finished a triathlon, given how fast I was breathing and the feeling of my heart pumping out of my chest. I inhaled the crisp, cool air through my nose—it smelled of snow—and exhaled through my mouth with my chapped lips feeling the wind.

Audrey went inside the house and came back out with a blanket. She wrapped Jenny in it and ushered her inside to sit on the couch, then Audrey came back out.

“We have some options here.”

We all nodded our heads, eager to hear said options.

“Technically, we haven’t done anything wrong, right? We can simply turn her in and be done with it. That’s option A.”

Denise stood up. “We can’t just turn her over. We are out in the middle of the night, high and drunk. You think the police are going to believe that we had absolutely no part in this mess? 

“Can I finish?”

Denise threw her hands up and rolled her eyes, but closed her mouth.

“Option B would be to assist Jenny in getting rid of the body.”

Valerie went to open her mouth but shut it real quick when Audrey snapped a look at her that would make the devil feel ashamed of his actions.

“And option C. We get rid of both bodies.”

I cupped my hands over my mouth, then opened them to say, “Like, kill her too?” I cupped my hands again and again, I parted them to add. “Kill her, then get rid of both of the bodies?”

Audrey nodded, then puffed her vape.

“That’s a bit on the extreme end of things. You go from doing the ‘right’ thing by turning her murdering ass in with no evidence we had anything to do with it, all the way to committing multiple felonies, one of which being MURDER?”

“Say we did option B, then?” Val shared her best-of-both-worlds vote.

“Getting rid of evidence, hiding a body, and being an accomplice after the fact to a MURDER, are still felonies, Valerie!” 

We were all fans of true crime. The stories on podcasts were enough to wrench your insides into a bloody lemonade mixer. But to have an actual conversation about a real crime—an in-our-face, non-hypothetical MURDEROUS crime—literally made my head pound like a good fuck night at the home homestead, if you know what I mean. I wanted to vomit until I was deaf and cry myself to sleep. “Are we seriously having a goddamn discussion about this?”

Completely ignoring me, Audrey elaborated, “Denise is a funeral director.”

“Oh, hell no. You aren’t dragging me into this plan. I haven’t even voted yet.”

“Better to know all the information before voting,” Val snapped at Denise.

Audrey continued, “I’m sure it couldn’t be too challenging to mock up some paperwork indicating that John Doe would be sent to the university as a practice cadaver for the medical students. They will have altered the body at that point, so nothing would be admissible in court, even if they could trace it back to Jenny. And even then, it’s to Jenny, not to any of us.”

“Except to me,” Denise interjected. “Sure, I can forge some paperwork, but ultimately I’ll be questioned as to why this John Doe wasn’t processed through proper channels, like trying to find its identity, why he died, or how he came to me.”

“Aren’t most of those for the students to decide?” I asked.

“Yes, after I’ve deemed the death was by natural causes, crossed my Ts and dotted my Is.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of forging the paperwork? It’s all a lie, anyway. There won’t be anything for the police to get their teeth into because it’s just a bucket full of lies.”

The talking stopped. We could hear the creaks of the playground equipment and the rustling of leaves being swept away by the brisk breeze getting louder and louder the more time that passed with no one talking.

“It’s time for a vote.” I picked my head up from in between my knees. My stomach churned with the sour taste of heartburn. 

“Everyone ready?” Valerie asked, looking at each of us as we nodded our heads.

“All those in favor of Option A?” I raised my hand. My cheeks warmed with a sickly heat, as I was the only to vote.

“Option B?” Valerie put her finger up.

“Option C?” Audrey, not that I doubt she’d have the know-how to go through with this, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t start questioning the crowd I was hanging out with.

“Denise! You have to pick one!” Valerie urged.

Denise waved her hands in front of her face. Normally, I’d think it odd to do so with the current climate, but I understood the feeling of hellfire in this case. 

“Three, Two,” Valerie started counting down. “O–”

“Option B!”

“Alright, what is our first move, oh wise one?” Val bowed and gestured in Audrey’s direction.

“Well, the goal would be to get the body to Denise’s butcher house.”

“I don’t have a butcher house, thank you very much. I respect my dead, and I don’t need you pissing off any spirits, so show some respect.”

“Of course.” Audrey held up her hand in surrender.

“What do we do with the loose cannon while we do all the dirty work?”

“She can stay here. It’s past midnight at this point. Let her calm down.”

“I’ll go tell her the plan.”

“Fine. Whatever. Leave us to move the body. When you’re done with the pleasantries, meet us by Valerie’s car. No point in all of us taking separate cars. Hers will fit a dead body easily with all of us in it.”

Talk about intrusive thoughts. I pictured myself going into a car dealership, and checking things off an imaginary checklist. Four-wheel drive, check. GPS, check. Can fit all my friends and a dead body inside, check.

I crept up to Jenny. The flashlight was still flickering on and off. One moment I saw her eerie smile, and then the next, her eyes were wide open, staring right into my soul.

“I had to kill him.” She grabbed my wrist with her icy hand. I had expected to see tears, fear, or some kind of remorse on her face. But her eyebrows were relaxed. Her mouth held a subtle smile, and her tone was quite matter-of-fact. She was no longer shaking in her body or her voice.

My heart was either in my gut or in my throat. I couldn’t quite tell. All I knew was, it wasn’t pumping in my chest anymore. Though I felt cold, sweat dripped down the small of my back.

She released her grip and yawned. “I’m going to rest now.” She curled back up onto the couch, covering back up with the blanket, but she didn’t close her eyes until I started backing out of the house.

Once I cleared the door, I ran to the red truck where Audrey, Val, and Denise were waiting for me, with Jenny’s wallet and keys in hand.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Let’s just go.” I passed them and opened the door to Valerie’s van.

The ride was quiet. I could only imagine the thoughts going through the other’s heads. Were they doubting this whole thing like I was? Did they think we were saving a damsel in distress? Are we vigilantes now?

“We are breaking our backs a whole hell of a lot for someone we know little about.” My head was pounding.

“She was being hit by her husband. I’d like to think I’d help anyone in that situation.” Denise sounded firm in her stance but her voice cracked here and there with nervous energy.

“Helping doesn’t have to mean getting rid of a dead body.”

“Yeah. Well. Here we are.”

“She scared the piss out of me back there. Grabbed my wrist, claimed she had to kill him, then went right back to sleep with a satisfied smile.”

“There’s this thing called shock,” Val started.

“I know what ‘shock’ is, Valerie. I don’t appreciate the condescending tone.”

“Just trying to help.”

“Everybody just needs to slow down. Now is not the time to be divided. However, not that I know from experience, but I’m sure killing anyone, let alone your own husband, takes a toll on one’s mind. Jenny is probably in shock, and you probably are too. It’s not as though we make a habit of moving and hiding a dead body…”

“Then forging paperwork to cover up the fact that he was MURDERED,” Denise blurted.

“It’ll be ok.”

“Should I be concerned about how calm you are about all this?” I asked.

“Lots of true crime podcasts and a lifetime in the field numbs you to these types of things, I suppose.”

“Last time I checked, your job was legitimate—considered a civil service to the community—not dealing with murdered, felon-ridden acts of cadaver-napping and disposing of bodies.”

Audrey just shrugged.

“You won’t catch me listening to any podcasts anytime soon.” Denise was fluffing her shirt to cool off.

Funny how the body deals with stress. Val’s car showed that the temperature outside was forty degrees. I know I was sweating though, and apparently, so was Denise.

“Look. All I’m saying is something feels off about all of this.”

“Well, duh. I hope this doesn’t feel normal to you.”

“I just mean, I think there is a piece we are missing.”

Nobody responded.

“Denise, walk us through what you are going to do to get rid of this body?” I knew it was probably in my best interest not to know this information if it were to come down to a trial, but I needed to know.

“We have a corpse donation program for the deceased who wish to give their bodies to science. We are partnered with the University for the medical students to examine.”

“Doesn’t that come with some strict tracking paperwork?” I blurted before I could stop myself, knowing perfectly well it was only going to make Denise’s anxiety soar like a firework.

“Yes, Sam. It fucking does. I’ll have to swap Wayne for one of the accepted bodies , signing, of course, with Doug’s name.”

“Who’s Doug?” Val asked as she casually pulled a bite off of a licorice stick she had found shoved deep down in the Bermuda Triangle that is the space between the armrest and her chair.

“The intern I’ll be fake-hiring to take the fall for a very not fake body swap of a murdered guy.”

“Oh.”

“Then, I’ll have an extra, not murdered body, that the University will eventually be missing. Then, I’ll do my best to play the ‘can’t find the paperwork’ game, which should bide us some time.”

“And then?”

“And then? And then I have no fucking clue because I’ve never done this before.”

“Denise, calm down.” Val ripped another bite off her licorice.

Denise’s eyes widened. She lunged forward, attacking the front seat headrest with swats of her hands, but Audrey boomed, “Enough! I understand this is a stressful situation, but now is not the time to be at each other’s throats. There won’t be any proof against us directly. You’ll hire, use, and fire “Doug”. Nothing but a breeze of a memory. The paperwork with all the red tape and back and forth will take ages. The University will still get the correct body. Wayne will remain a mystery…a cold case, so, sit back down…”

“Yeah,” Val teased with her tongue sticking out and hands at the side of her ears as if they were siblings in grade school.

Audrey pointed a finger at Valerie. “You drive and shut up.”

Valerie opened her mouth and closed it again with a bubble of air trapped inside, and released a huff.

“This will all be just a bad dream in the morning.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you are smoking, Audrey, but you’re going to need to share that ‘indifferent, bullshit composed’ attitude with the rest of the class.”

“Oh, come on. The guy deserved it. And we’ve listened to enough true crime podcasts to pass the detective’s exam. We can hide a body and get away with it.”

“Not something I would put on my resume,” I snarked. “Other than the obvious, something isn’t sitting right with me. Jenny —”

“Is not in this current equation.”

“Exactly. Maybe she should be.”

“Or maybe she should just be resting in a safe space while we help her out of a jam.”

The conversation was clearly over. I could hear nothing but the sound of tires rolling on the road. But in my head, I retorted, “This is a pretty sour fucking jam she’s got us in.”

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. I remember heaving Wayne into the morgue. Audrey said something about checking on Jenny tomorrow morning.

I woke up to the sun beaming through my bedroom window at ten in the morning, greeted by my husband and my child. It took me a couple of blinks and a yawn-stretch to realize that last night’s nightmare was an actual reality.

I sprang out of bed, which I don’t say lightly as I don’t spring out of bed ever, grabbed my phone and hunkered down in the bathroom. I called Audrey.

“Hello?”

“Hello? That’s your response to the events of last night? Wayne had a job. How the hell are we going to explain that one?”

“Already taken care of. I met Jenny for breakfast at her house. Told her to call later today and file a missing persons report.”

“Is she stable enough to do that?”

“I suppose so. She seemed fine this morning.”

“And that doesn’t throw some red flags? She fucking killed her husband. I know he was abusing her, but they wouldn’t have gotten married if she hadn’t loved him UNLESS there is something we don’t know.”

“You’re looking too deep into this, Sam.”

“Well, Audrey, I think you are way too chill with the whole thing.”

“Go take a gummy, Samantha. It’ll all be fine.”

“Yeah…famous last words.”

***

4 Months Later

It was Tuesday morning when the news reports started. The most universal headliner was “University medical students traumatized by the state of cadaver.” 

Ever since that night, Jenny had been spending more and more time with us. She filed the report like Audrey had said. There weren’t many leads to go on. The gossip going around town was that he didn’t want to go to jail for abusing his wife, so he skipped town. I have my own suspicions about how that gossip started, but nothing else came of it…until now.

Jenny had seemed perfectly okay with her husband “skipping town,” which only heightened my uneasiness with her even more. I didn’t press her or the rest of the group with any more questions, but my guard stayed up when she was around.

My phone made my heart jump. Caller ID said it was Audrey.

“I know you’re freaking out right now, but remember, there isn’t anything tying us to this.”

“For now.”

“Just stay calm and don’t say anything.”

“Right. Because I would just voluntarily tell the police that I helped with a fucking coverup.”

“Never know with ‘Miss Goodie Two Shoes’.”

“Ha. Ha. hilarious.”

“Anyway. I’m having Jenny and the girls over tonight to talk about some of this. Would you like to come?”

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.”

I hung up and paced my tiny bathroom like a wild cat caged at a circus.

“Everything okay in there?” Logan knocked on the door.

“Just peachy.”

“Huh?”

I pulled my pants down, lifted the toilet lid, and sat down. “I’m pooping!”

“Okay,” then walked away to let me stew.

That afternoon Denise showed up at my doorstep in tears. 

“I’m on suspension at work. They found out the paperwork got lost on my watch.”

I escorted her to my couch. Logan wasn’t home yet and Hailey was at a friend’s house. “I thought ‘Doug’ was supposed to take the fall for this?”

“He was. But apparently our HR department no longer has the records for Doug Benson. They disappeared. I had a copy of a driver’s license, a resume, and all other necessary credentials. But it’s like the fake man disappeared into thin air.”

Other than the emotional wreck sitting next to me, we sat in silence. I couldn’t help but think about Jenny and how indifferent she felt about her husband’s death. Something didn’t feel right.

I made Denise some coffee. Not that the caffeine would help her anxiety but she wasn’t a tea person. “I’m going to figure this out,” I told her. “Finish your coffee. Stay as long as you like, but I’m going out tonight.”

“You aren’t going to Audrey’s for dinner?”

“She asked you too?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect. Is Valerie going too?”

“I think so. I was going to go, but now I don’t feel like it.”

“You should go. Tell them I’m going to dinner with the family tonight.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me.”

“I guess.”

Denise finished her coffee, then left. When she did, I changed my clothes—black leggings, black shirt and a hoodie. Even my socks and shoes were black. I pulled back my hair to ensure it wouldn’t impede the mission set forth by myself and struck the most common ninja pose ever. Glancing in the full-length mirror so as to not ruin the epic picture, I realized I looked absolutely ridiculous. But fashion wasn’t the goal here.

After texting Logan about my “girl’s night out”, I headed for the park. There were still a few older kids lingering about, but soon enough, no one was around. I trekked the length of the park to the back fence of Jenny’s house. She was just leaving for Audrey’s dinner. The indoor lights flashed off and the outdoor lights turned on. 

I waited for the sound of the car to dwindle before making my move over the fence, which, let me just tell you, the movies make it seem so much easier than it is. 

The back door, if memory serves from that awful night, was a simple door with hopefully a simple lock. I reached around for my wallet and pulled a credit card out. While leaning on the door slightly, I slid the card between the door and its frame. 

I am no pro at breaking and entering, so with each second not working, a bead of sweat would form somewhere on my body, panicking Jenny would come home because she had forgotten something. Or worse. Maybe she knew I was onto her. But finally, I fell through the threshold, no damage done to anything or myself—a rarity for which I applauded myself.

I had no idea where to even start. The most I was in her house was that night four months ago. The house had a basement and a small, most likely cramped crawl space for an attic. Its main level had a kitchen, living room, a master bedroom with an attached bathroom, a guest bathroom down the hall, and an extra room. Thinking that the extra room could be an office, I started there.

It was a quick look through, however, as nothing was in the room. Not a desk, chair, bed, a pile of clothes…nothing. I almost didn’t open the closet, as I figured the results would be similar, but what kind of ninja spy would I be if not a thorough one? Nothing…except for a wall safe, but, of course, the code wasn’t conveniently stuck on the wall. It was a six-digit code. All numbers. I put a pin in that and moved onto the basement.

Or should I say cellar? Made me think of an abandoned apothecary—empty jars covered in dust. They looked as though no one had been down there since before Jenny and Wayne moved in—which, through activated allergies I didn’t know I had, made it easier for me to see that nothing had been disturbed enough to hide anything of importance. 

I went back upstairs into the hallway between bedrooms, where a string dangled down just long enough for me to jump a tad and grab it. A ladder slid down as I opened the hatch more. Making my way up the ladder, I knew the attic was frequented more often than the basement by the lack of cobwebs and bug blankets of dust.

Sure enough, there was a single accordion file box just to the right of the attic’s opening. I grabbed it and made my way back to the empty safe room, only because I had my fingers crossed that something in this file would lead to the safe’s code.

The files were divided by names. I started with the only one I recognized. Wayne Curits was filed in the back. The file included Wayne’s prison record, which proved he had a past of hitting women, pictures of his ex-wife both on their wedding day and of her bruised in the hospital. There were also newspaper articles of his disappearance and his body discovery, and his death certificate. 

Moving back to front, each file contained the same with five other men. James, Thomas, Kyle, Al, and Michael. One of them stood out from the others in the sense that the file was thicker. It held more pictures, journal entries, and even pages with what looked to be wedding vows. Michael Truant. They were married fresh out of highschool. Homecoming king and queen pictures proved a love for each other like that of a fairytale. And then came a baby. There were a few police reports hidden behind the pictures. All of which took place when Jenny would have been pregnant. Michael seemed to have the habit of getting drunk during what should have been a joyous time for the couple, and knocked Jenny around pretty hard. A couple of broken ribs, black eyes, even pushed her down the steps on a couple of occasions. Isla Truant was still born as healthy as could be. A precious baby girl with curly blonde locks and eyes as icy blue as a frozen lake. 

However, within six months, Isla passed away. The death certificate stated SIDS as the cause of death, though Jenny had her own thoughts. In her diary entries, she stated multiple times; she thought Michael killed her. She had come back home from tutoring late one evening to find Michael drunk and passed out on the floor of the nursery. In her writings, Jenny spoke of not knowing if it was on purpose or not. But she certainly blamed him nonetheless, given the abuse she and the baby had suffered during pregnancy.

Isla’s birthday was June twelfth, nineteen ninety-nine. I stood up and rotated the dials until it read 061299. It clicked, and there was Doug Benson’s file from Denise’s HR department, along with a few passports, fake IDs, a 1911-380 compact, and bundles of cash.

“I had no choice. He took my baby from me.” A calm almost angelic voice swept in through the empty room. 

“Jenny.” 

Tears flooded her eyes, but she was sure not to let the damn break.

 I just sat there staring at her. What else was I supposed to do? Pretend I hadn’t broken into her house? Pretend I wasn’t sitting in the closet where her skeletons lay? I had clearly been caught.

“But why Denise? Why set her up for this?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. “You all were nosy enough to interject into my well thought out plan. I figured if I pinned it on someone else this time, I wouldn’t have to leave so soon.”

“This time.” I nodded my head slowly and shuffled through the files. “Yes, I see this wasn’t your first go around.”

“They all deserved it. I made sure of that before I claimed them to be my husbands. They were brutes. Al and Kyle had actually gotten away with killing their wives. Sure, they claimed it was an accident, but I knew better. Hell, so did the police and the judge but there wasn’t any proof. One fell over a second floor banister and the other hit her head on a broken glass table which was broken due to Kyle throwing his wife around like a damn football.” She looked through me. Eyes glazed over as if her soul had been taken back in time. “They all deserved it.”

“Even Michael?”

“Michael. I loved him. And there was no doubt he loved me. But something changed in him when I began to change.” She held her slender belly as if Isla was still in her womb. One tear escaped from the inner corner of her eye. “She was perfection in its best form—an angel born of the golden and pink lined clouds in the heavens.”

Her fists shook, jaw tightened, and there was no more holding back the tears. Whether the tears were of anger or sorrow, I couldn’t tell, and to be honest I had a feeling it was a mixture of both. She inched closer to me…step by step. Her arms and hands reached out, shaping up to be the perfect size for my throat.

My heartbeat throbbed in my neck as if she already had her hold. My hands shuffled around the floor…the cold metal…the sliver of the trigger. I picked it up, pointed it in the direction of the tattered Jenny, and pulled the trigger.

The thud of her body echoed in the empty room. Reaching for my phone, I texted for back up. “Jenny’s house. 911. Hurry.” Then I called the police.

“I…I just shot a murderer.” I gave them the address and hung up rather than staying on the line.

Blood slowly trickled from Jenny’s knee. Jenny was crying, though I had the feeling it had nothing to do with the gunshot wound. The pain she’s been carrying all these years, combined with a twisted sense of duty, left her feeling empty. It was the end and she knew it.

Using the walls of the closet to help myself up, I stumbled my way to the kitchen where I remember seeing a thin hand towel dangling from the oven’s handle. I scooted closer to Jenny ever so tenderly and cautiously. I wrapped the towel around her leg, just above her knee and applied pressure…and then we waited.

***

Due to the high profile of the case, the courts did their best to push it through quickly. Jenny had admitted to everything, every murder from Michael to Wayne, in exchange for her sentence being carried out in a psychiatric hospital to assist in her triggering grief. Though they could never find Doug in person to question, they accepted the documents Jenny had stolen, therefore releasing Denise from her suspension. 

I still sneak out many nights to gaze up at the stars and often wonder where Jenny would be if we hadn’t intervened. I questioned if we actually helped her. Did we help any others who were suffering from abuse? Where would their justice be if not for Jenny’s vigilante actions?