Page 2 of Little Horrors & Deceptions

Johnathan’s voice floated over. “Neighbors didn’t see anything. Big surprise.” He gestured with a shake of both of his hands.

“Our killer is too careful, plus our vic has been here a few days already based on his decomposition.” I stood. “Let’s hear what Jenkins got from the ex-wife,” I suggested, already moving toward the officer in question.

“Right behind you,” Johnathan confirmed, his presence a steady assurance. He always had my back, as he’d been my partner for a few years now. I’d tried to keep my distance at first, I wasn’t big on friends, but Johnathan had eventually become my only one, and for the most part, we were inseparable. We walked over to where Officer Jenkins stood, flipping through his notepad, his eyes wary and tired.

“What’ve you got for us?” I asked.

“Caller’s name is Amanda Croix. Claims she knew he would come for her once he got out of jail for leaving him. She still had the key to his apartment and wandered in looking for David for herself when he didn’t. She found the body and bolted, then thought better of it and called it in from a payphone two blocks over.”

“Any priors?” I prodded, going over all the standard questions.

“Other than getting beat by David for a few years, no, nothing. Their divorce was finalized while he was serving a short sentence. He just got out about a week ago.”

“Where is she now?” I pressed. Maybe she could give us more information. Plus, I wanted to be sure she was safe.

“She said she didn’t want to talk to the cops. She didn’t want anyone to see her here. She fears his family.”

“Thank you, Jenkins.” It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Jonathan followed behind me as we readied to leave.

“Sooo, are we going to say hello?” Jonathan murmured, already knowing what my next move would be.

“Yep,” I agreed, feeling the eluded pull of the chase making butterflies flutter behind my ribs.

Amanda Croix looked like a ghost. Her eyes were hollow, her skin a pale mask to what its normal color would be. She appeared sick, but with fear, not a cold. She sat in the corner booth of the diner, the kind with cracked red vinyl seats and mismatched flooring, and flinched every time the door jingled open. I slid in across from her with Johnathan. She didn’t relax, but how could she? She knew how dangerous the Croixes were, and after finding the man that had abused her for so long and the way he’d been killed… I was sure this wasn’t easy for her.

“Amanda, thanks for meeting with us,” I said, and Johnathan gave her a reassuring smile.

She glanced around the room, her eyes darting like a frightened bird’s. Her knee was a jackhammer under the table. “I don’t have long,” she said. “I can’t be seen talking to cops.”

I signaled the waitress for coffee. Amanda already had a cup, but it looked untouched. “We’re just here to help,” I said. “No one will know.”

She bit her lip. “You don’t understand. His family—”

“Are they coming after you?” I cut in. Her fear was palpable. Real. But it was my job in more ways than one to protect victims like her. I’d make sure nothing happened to her. She’d been through enough.

She shook her head then nodded. “I don’t know. Maybe. Once you’re married to a Croix, it’s hard to escape that life. They might think I had something to do with his murder somehow.”

The waitress plunked a chipped mug in front of me and filled it with a slosh of hot, dark liquid. “Amanda, we know you didn’t kill him.” Johnathan eyed me but didn’t interrupt. “I’m going to help you get through this.”

She stared into her coffee, wringing her hands together. “He was a dangerous man,” she almost whispered. “You know that...” I nodded, letting her open up to me. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “He hurt me for years. The bruises, the broken bones. I never told anyone because I was too scared. He said he’d kill me if I left, and I believed him.”

I waited. I didn’t need to take notes—her words were carving themselves into my memory. As if I were sitting here in the memories with her.

“He was getting worse,” she continued. “Unhinged. He called me from jail a few days before he got out, screaming. Telling me he was going to come for me because I had divorced him with his own money. I thought that was it. That he was going to finish me once he got out.”

She opened her tear-filled eyes and looked straight at me for the first time. “I’m thankful,” she said. “To whoever did it. To whoever the executioner is. If they hadn’t taken him out, I’d be dead now. They saved my life.”

My stomach tightened, but I gave her a small smile. “How do you know it was the executioner?”

“When I saw the body, it matched the things I’d heard on the news over the years. They always go for the ones that slip through the cracks… I hope they never get caught.” She trailed off, but I understood her too well. “I’m sorry,” she continued. “I’m not trying to disrespect your job or anything. The system can just be...” She waved her head as if dismissing her own thoughts like smoke.

I touched her hand gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I understand. No need to explain.”

The door bells jingled and she jumped. “Sorry, I really should go...”

“Wait,” I said, stopping her as she was getting up to leave. “Take this.” I handed her my card. “It’s my personal phone number. Go to the Royal Palace Hotel on the outskirts of town, stay there as long as you need, and call me if you need anything. Just tell them my name and they’ll help you from there.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “Thank you.”

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