by BB Curtis    

Chapter 1

The Set-Up

    Sick and twisted doesn’t really cover it.  The package in the freezer, all wrapped up in 5 zip-style bags, has a lot to do with determining sanity, ethics, and morality.  That package, hidden in the back behind a 10-pound bag of boneless, skinless chicken breasts, has a lot to do with whether or not there will be a full trial.  That package, disguised as a nice knackwurst, once discovered, would be both the beginning and the end of normalcy for the people involved.

    Twenty-two years ago, there was a beautiful wedding in the bride’s living room.  The groom, a sergeant in the Army, his Best Man, and the two ushers were in dress greens.  The bride was in an ivory, floor-length, gauze dress, reminiscent of a 60’s hippie with flowers in her hair.  The brides’ maids and maid of honor wore the same dress in lavender, flowers everywhere.  The bride had always been a little hung up on her mother’s era, the era that helped produce her when her mother was too young and irresponsible to have a baby, although, even with all the mistakes, mother and daughter grew up together until a point.  The bride’s Area Manager gave her away.  The reception was held in her house and yard.  There were about 50 guests, including friends and work associates from both bride and groom.  It was one of those parties that went down in the memories of some and with limited to no memories for others.  Lots of the party stayed the night for safety and made breakfast in the morning before going home.  The two groups – military and finance – meshed well together and knew how to have a somewhat responsible, good, adult time.  The bride and groom left on their short honeymoon at noon.  Money was an issue, so they went to a ski resort not far away, in the off-season, and never left their suite.  Everything went according to their rather simple plans.  They were happy and their world was bright.  

    They knew that their futures would include time apart.  The bride, sorry, her name is Christen, had a better than average paying job with a future at a big bank.  The groom, Dave, was expecting to be sent overseas at least a couple of times more before retiring.  Chances were, Christen would stay in Tucson when Dave went out of the country.  It made no sense for her to leave her career when there were only eight more years until full retirement for Dave (he was several years older than Christen).  They were being practical and sensible, something Christen’s mother had never been.  Christen learned from Mom’s mistakes and Dave was no fool.  They made plans based on logic and rational thinking.  They were headed toward success and a stable future together, working toward mutual goals.  There were just a couple of things they didn’t take into consideration.  One was purposely being kept secret, and the other had not yet reared its hideous head.  They were in for a couple of surprises.

    The first few years went well.  They were happy with each other, their careers, the direction their lives together were taking, and the plans they had.  At the end of year two, Dave was sent to Germany.  They spent most evenings (US time)/mornings (Germany time) on the phone together for about an hour or so.  Dave didn’t mind the loss of sleep.  He wanted to talk to his wife.  Christen didn’t mind coming home from a long day on the job and having the pleasure of talking to her husband.  They missed each other.  They continued to make plans for a home to buy, a dog to adopt, children to have, the next cars they wanted, and much, much more.  They were putting aside money for their future.  They wouldn’t let miles get in their way.  

    Time moved along as it should; but, in Dave’s third year in Germany, some things started to look odd to Christen.  First, the allotment that was supposed to be directly deposited into their savings account from Dave’s pay stopped.  Then, one of her credit cards, not one with Dave’s name on it, was used for a large purchase in Germany.  These happened at a time when Dave was neither calling her nor answering her calls.  She got hold of her credit card company.  They were not helpful.  Even though they should have never allowed the charge to go through at the time of purchase, they told Christen that, unless she wanted to file criminal charges against her husband in another country, she needed to pay the bill.  She didn’t want to press charges, so she made a deal with the company to close the account so nothing else could happen, and they agreed to reduce her interest rate after she started talking about having an attorney get involved.  Since hiring an attorney would be more expensive than it was worth, she was left with few choices but had to try something.  The reduced interest was not a bad offer under the circumstances.  It was just too bad that the credit card was not with the bank for which she worked.  That would have had a different outcome.  It appeared that Dave had planned rather well by choosing a card issued by a different bank.  After a couple more weeks went by without a word from Dave, she managed to get his CO on the phone.  All that he would tell her was that Dave was healthy and at his post each day — nothing to worry about.  He indicated that he had no idea why Dave would not be answering calls and agreed to talk with him.  When Christen got off that phone call, she vowed that she’d eventually find out the whole truth since that conversation was only so much bullshit, although she had no idea how that was going to happen.  

    She spent a few sleepless nights putting together all the possible scenarios.  There weren’t many that made sense and the ones that did were unpalatable.  She finally accepted that the highest probability was that Dave got someone pregnant and was not only not man enough to admit it, but was also paying for the baby.  Christen had time to make some new decisions.  One of her possibilities was to accept whatever Dave told her and just hold on to what she suspected – logic and rational thinking told her she was not wrong.  In this plot line, she would wait until later in their relationship to use against him whatever she could find.  She was sure that he couldn’t be trusted any longer, so there was little chance that things would go back to happy and well-adjusted.  Another possibility:  Make an appointment at the JAG office at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base and see what they could do to help her at least get in touch with Dave and maybe start divorce proceedings.  Maybe they could come up with details on the affair that she was convinced was behind his actions.  Once she hit on the idea of going to the JAG office, she realized that she might have had a way to deal with that credit card issue with their help.  Why had she not thought of that when on the phone with them?  She realized that she was far too civilian and not enough military.  She agonized over those possibilities and a few more.  Nothing was working for her.  She didn’t like any of the options she was conjuring and sleep got further and further away every night.  

    Dave called.  They hadn’t spoken in over a month.  When she heard his ringtone, all the blood ran to her fingers and toes.  Shaking, she picked up the phone and swiped to answer.  She said nothing.  She couldn’t find her voice.  

    “Christen?” she heard him ask.  “Christen, are you there?”

    “Mmm-hmm.” she stammered.  

    “Um, I-I don’t know wh-what to say to y-you.”  Dave was stammering, too.

    “That’s interesting.  I have nothing to say to you,” finding her voice, “but whatever you have to say had better be good.”

“I lost myself and went a little crazy for a while.  I know I owe our savings account.  I’ll make up for it.  I also need to do something about your credit card.”

    “I’ll be honest, I’m a little less worried about the money part and a whole lot more concerned with what you mean by ‘went a little crazy.’  Would you care to expand on that part so that I can understand what the fuck you’ve been doing?”

    “Well, honey, you see, I just, ah, couldn’t stand being away from you.  Every phone call was getting too painful.  I love you so much. I need to see you.”

    “That’s all very sweet, but what have you been doing?  That’s what I asked you.  You didn’t answer me.”

    “Aw, baby.  Can’t you understand that I can’t take the days away from you and long nights without you next to me?”

    “That’s still not an answer.”  And she hung up.

    “When a Man Loves a Woman” played on her phone 29 more times that night.  She didn’t answer.  This time she turned a deaf ear.  Never once did he leave her a message or send her a text, just call after call.  She thought that he probably didn’t want anything documented that could be used against him.  The next day at work, one of her closest friends asked her again to tell her what was wrong.  

    “You look like shit.  Now, what’s the story?  This is not like you.  You’re my happy girl, and you’ve been in a dark hole for weeks.” Joni half-whispered to her so that the entire office couldn’t hear.

    This time, Christen asked her if they could meet at one of the bars nearby.  Christen really needed to talk to Joni.  Joni would at least be able to look at the situation more calmly . . . after she blew off a little steam herself.  Joni and her husband had gone through a few things that would have ruined most marriages, but they managed to forgive each other and move forward.  There must be something Joni could share that would give Christen direction and focus.  There just had to be.  Handling this from 6000 miles away could hardly be productive, and Christen knew that she was not being entirely logical or rational.

    That evening at about 6:45 Joni walked into the Take it Easy and sat down across from Christen in one of the booths in a quiet corner, away from the bar where most of the action was.  Christen had ordered for them, and the drinks arrived as Joni said, “I’m worried about you and need to know that this is something that will right itself or that there’s something we can do to fix it.”

    Christen took a good-sized gulp of her rum and coke and gave Joni a detailed version of what was happening with Dave, not happening with Dave, and her suspicions of what brought on the behaviors.  By this time, she was convinced that there was no other possible answer — he was having an affair and there was nothing she could do about it unless she planned on flying to Germany.  And so, they started making her plans.

    Two weeks later, using funds in their savings that were supposed to be the down payment for their house and to start furnishing it, she got off her flight to Innsbruck, got her luggage, and found the car rental area.  They supplied her with a map to the Garmisch Army Base, which she reviewed over a quick snack and got her bearings; and she was off on her hour drive to surprise her husband.

    She pulled into the gate, parked, went inside the guard office, showed her credentials, and was given her guest pass for the car.  She got a base map, specifically base housing, found the right street for the bungalow her husband was in and got back in the car.  She was now getting exceptionally nervous so she sat with her face in her hands for several minutes, trying to get herself together and prepare for what she was sure was going to take place at her husband’s front door.  She steeled herself and drove past the guard at the gate, waving and trying to look happy and normal.

    It took only about 6 minutes to find the house.  She pulled into the driveway and went to the front door and knocked.  A woman answered the door.  Christen pretended that her knees didn’t just go weak and that she could barely breathe.  She managed to get out a sound just a bit above a whisper.  “Hi.  Is Dave in?”

    The woman at the door, still in her fatigues having just got home, looked confused and said, “Who?”

    “Dave, Sgt. David Hansen.  Is he home?”  She felt that she was too wide-eyed but couldn’t do anything about it.

    The woman at the door seemed to be thinking for a minute.  She looked back at Christen and mused, “I think my boyfriend knows someone named Dave.  He won’t be back for about a half-hour.  Do you want to come in and have a seat?”

    Christen thanked her and walked in, thinking that sitting down would be awesome right at that moment, better than falling over, which was what her legs seemed to want to do.  They exchanged names.  Julie, the woman at the door, brought her a large glass of iced tea.  It turns out that Julie’s boyfriend, Adam, had driven into town to pick up dinner from one of their favorite restaurants.  Julie called him to make sure that the Dave in question was the same Dave as Christen’s.  He was, and Adam added to their order from Toma’s Bistro so that Christen could take a break from her airport wait time, about 12 hours in the air and an hour drive.  Christen was feeling much better even though Julie was a stranger, she was quickly becoming a friend thanks to being a wonderful hostess.  Her natural cheer and warmth helped Christen’s raw nerves relax a bit even though she still had no idea why her husband wasn’t living at the address she had for him.  Julie went to change into jeans and a tee.

    Julie came back into the room in civvies and slumped down on the couch with her own iced tea.  

    “What kind of tea is this?” Christen asked.

    “Kava Kava.  I get it at the Exchange.  Tasty, huh?”

    They made some small talk, getting-to-know-you-stranger types of things, starting with where each was born and ending the quick route with current interests.  Christen didn’t bring up any of the recent, odd behavior of her husband and very soon Adam arrived with dinner.  He and Julie set the table and they all sat down.  Lucky for Christen, Adam opened up the subject right away of Dave being missing from the house.  The story went like this.  Adam and Julie needed a place to live and Dave was on post alone.  It was easier for the switch to be made for Adam and Julie to take the one-bedroom bungalow and for Dave to move into barracks.  It all seemed quite innocent and logical — no problem.  If that had been the only oddity, Christen never would have been prompted to take a trip halfway around the world.  Christen found out from Adam what barracks Dave was assigned to and, after dinner, asked Julie to show her where to go on the base map to find the barracks.  They exchanged a few pleasantries, including phone numbers, and Christen got back in the car and drove to the barracks where she now expected to find her husband.  

    Although she’d never been on a base for enough time to learn nuances, she also didn’t much care about nuances now.  She parked in the lot next to the barracks and walked up to the door and knocked.  A half-naked, well-built, young man opened the door; and Christen asked for Sgt. David Hansen.  The response she got was, “Who?”

Chapter 2

The Hunt

    That was all Christen could take right then.  She crumpled onto the platform in front of the barrack’s door.  She just sat right down, a little hard, not completely ungracefully and stared straight ahead at the bare, hairy, muscular legs in front of her.  The young, hot warrior bent over and helped Christen stand up.  He held onto her upper arms a little extra long so that he was sure that she was standing on her own, and asked, “You were looking for Sgt. David Hansen, you said?”

    Christen tried to speak but couldn’t find her voice.  She tried again.  She opened her mouth and made sound go out. “Yes,” was discernible if overly breathy.  

    “Well, beautiful, I don’t know him, but let me check around.  Can I get you to come in and sit down?  I don’t want to leave you here if you’re going to fall over again.”  He lead her to a chair inside the entry and across from a door that had a name on it.  She didn’t notice it at first.  She sat down thankfully and put her head in her hands.  Covering her eyes helped part of the headache subside, and she started to feel more stable, breathing consciously, counting her breaths in and out.  She looked up, rubbed her eyes lightly to help them feel less scratchy from lack of sleep, and stopped short.  The name on the door was Dave’s CO, the person Christen had talked to on the phone who was no help at all.  She could see someone moving behind the textured glass and heard a deep voice but couldn’t distinguish words clearly.  She was a bit unsteady as she stood up but took two steps forward and knocked on the door.

    “Enter.” was what she heard.  She turned the doorknob and pulled the door open.  The man inside looked a bit surprised, scowled, and then asked, “What do you need, young lady?”

    “Hello, sir.  I’m Sgt. David Hansen’s wife, Christen.  I spoke with you a few weeks ago about my husband.  You seemed unable to assist me in locating him, so I came here myself.  I went to the address he gave me when he came on base a couple of years ago.  He is not there.  I find it odd that there are some people on this base who think that he is being housed in this barracks, but you were unable to tell me where he was, just that he shows up at his post.  The young man who opened the door to this barracks didn’t appear to know him.  If he’s here, I need to see him.  If he is not, where is he staying?  I need to know.  He has stopped communicating with me.  He has spent an inordinate amount of money lately.  He has used credit of mine that is not in his name.  I’m being told that I can press charges for fraud, but I’d like to avoid that.  I am here to find him and find out what is going on before I decide what my next move is.  Do you understand?”  The young man who answered the door was walking toward her.  She saw him in her peripheral vision and turned to face him.  

    “Ma’am, there are a couple of guys here who know Sgt. Hansen, but they’re saying that he is now staying in town and doesn’t live on base any longer.  I hope that helps you.” said the young soldier, earnestly.

    “Thank you,” she responded, and turned toward the CO, “and what do you have to say to that?”

    “Well, ma’am,” the CO said haltingly, “I had heard after your call that Sgt. Hansen had been in this barracks a while ago.  I don’t, however, know where he’s living now.”

    “You might think I’m an idiot, but I know that you most certainly would know where David is.  You are his CO according to the base locator information I found online.  That was verified by the person I talked to in order to get more information.  Indeed, you WOULD know where people in your unit are housed.  Why are you lying to me?  Has David done something wrong?  Are you covering for him?  Look at me.  Don’t stare at your desktop.  Answer me.”  She was adamant, and he got it.

    Slowly, the CO raised his head.  Some of the color was gone from his face.  He looked past Christen.  “Mrs. Hansen, your husband moved into town a while back right before his daughter was born.”  Christen lost ALL the color in her face.  It was a good thing she was leaning over the desk previously to get her point across.  She leaned harder on her hands to stabilize herself.  “Ma’am, I’m sorry to be the one who is delivering this news to you.  May I get you something to drink?”  He was up from his desk chair and getting a chair for Christen.  He guided her into it.  She looked up into his face as huge tears formed in her eyes and slowly overflowed the lids.  She nodded slightly.  The CO poured her a scotch that he got from a locked cabinet in the corner after he shut his office door.

    Christen took the glass in two hands and stared at absolutely nothing over its rim.  She couldn’t move.  She just held the glass.  It had become her new stabilizer.  She was not able to form thoughts past the vision of her Dave holding a baby that was not hers.  That vision was surrounded by a layer of fog, much like a dream vision of something real but not there, like looking through clouds of space and time.  For several long moments, she was oblivious to her real surroundings.  CO Tompkins was getting nervous and wondering if he needed to get someone from the hospital to get her. In those moments, the person that Christen had turned herself into after years of abuse at the hands of her mother and foster parents disappeared.  The old Christen returned.  The one who scared the other kids at foster homes.  The one who kept her on the move from one home to another because foster parents couldn’t deal with her or tolerate her actions.  The child that several foster parents learned to fear.  The one to whom several sets of foster parents lost precious items but were afraid to report, apprehensive of the possible retaliation from Christen.  The Christen that caseworkers didn’t want to handle, would trade off as often as they could, and couldn’t wait until she turned 18 and would no longer be in the system.  That person returned as the fog around the vision turned blood red and then the dark carmine of dried blood.  There was a realization to her that there was a glass in her hands.  Something by way of habit made her put it to her lips.  The slightest taste came to her upper lip.  She opened her lips slightly to let the warming liquid slide over her tongue.  She swirled the sip in her mouth and swallowed.  Then she downed the rest of what was in the glass in one swallow and said, “More,” in a harsh whisper as she placed the glass on the desk. 

    CO Tomkins poured more scotch into the glass, but his attention was completely drawn to Christen’s face.  It had somehow changed, become darker, hard, (if he could have admitted it to himself) frightening.  Her skin tone had gone from peachy to something more toward grey.  Her eyes were dark holes. There were two deep crevices between her eyebrows that had been barely visible before.  The line of her lips went from reasonably pleasant even under the circumstances and having had a blowout to a mean, harsh, straight line.  He got the impression that her whole body had become rigid, smaller, tighter, as though all her muscles had seized.  He came to a full realization that he wouldn’t want to be in Dave’s shoes, and he wrote down Dave’s address with his girlfriend and their baby.  Dave had always been an arrogant ass.  In many ways, he deserved whatever this little gal appeared to be able to dish out so he was happy to nudge her cute, little tush along the way.

Chapter 3

The Target

    Christen got back in the rental and just sat.  The two shots of scotch had warmed her up, but not mellowed her anger.  She was almost more angry because she’d been right.  This was not the first time that this thought had run through her head over the years:  “I hate being right so damned often.”  After a bit (and some more yoga breathing) she put on the car’s interior light and opened up the map again.  She hadn’t really planned on having to use it so many times.  Christen tried to focus; but old, bitter thoughts and visions kept creeping around her head.  These weren’t behind the wall she’d built.  They were right there in the front of her mind, clouding her judgment and her vision.

    She located her destination on the map and backtracked to the base gate, memorized the route, and backed the car out of the parking space.  Before she put the transmission in drive, she noticed a note on her windshield.  It was from Julie.  All it said was, “Be careful!”  What Christen’s thought was, “None of you know me.”

    Back at Julie’s house, Adam was telling her even more of the story of Dave — his outrageous attitude, his temper, his drinking, his drug use, his abusive nature both verbal and physical, his stupid girlfriend, his inability to act like any kind of adult.  In general, Adam and most of the men who knew Dave were wondering how he had stayed in the military based on his repugnant behavior.  They had hypothesized that he was related to someone either up the ranks or in Congress.  Another equally plausible hypothesis was that he saved his vicious and divisive behavior for only those without power over him and wielded fear like an Mk47 to keep them quiet while spending the rest of his time kissing the asses of those above him in rank.  They all knew that it wouldn’t last forever.  He would be found out at some point.  It might take being back in the states so that people in the civilian community would complain to someone with open ears and an open mind.  They could hope.

    Christen pulled up outside the cottage and turned off the headlights and engine.  She stared at the windows of the house to see if she could see any people.  Lights were on, but there didn’t appear to be any activity, at least toward the front end of the house.  The evening and neighborhood were quiet with a sense of peace under a full moon, creating enough light to see quite a bit although it was getting late.  She sat and soaked in the calm.  It helped her start to think more clearly.  She had no idea what she was going to do.  She knew what she wanted to do but was aware that David was a lot stronger than she and that she’d need some sort of weapon in order to take him down and then take out on him the vengeance she felt.  She had been on a plane earlier in the day.  Of course, she had nothing that even resembled a weapon.  Then, it dawned on her that there was probably a tire iron in the trunk of the rental.  Quietly, she got out of the car, didn’t totally shut the door, and opened the trunk.  In it was her luggage – two pieces.  That was it.  She felt along the carpet edge on top of the rear bumper.  It was loose.  She pushed her luggage further toward the front of the car, pushed up the carpet, and found the latch to the spare tire compartment, and there it was.  It gleamed a bit in the moonlight.  Later, when telling the story, she spent a bit of extra time on that gleam, as though it had somehow taken on a life of its own lit up purposely to grab her attention and point the way for her plan.

    She took out the tire iron and her leather gloves from her smaller bag.  The iron was the newer kind that looks more like a crowbar.  That would work.  It would fit under her coat.  She removed all her jewelry and put it in her purse, took out a hair tie, and put her purse on the backseat floor behind the driver’s seat.  She tied her hair back so it wouldn’t get in her way and put all her hair under her coat so no one could grab hold of it.  She put the keys on top of the passenger side rear tire so she couldn’t lose them in the house and put on her gloves.  She leaned against the car for a few seconds with her eye closed, thinking through her plan.  She was hoping the girlfriend and the baby weren’t there.  That would make things too complicated. Besides, physically hurting either one of them was not on her agenda.  She went over the details of her approach and then attack.  She ran through the checklist she’d been taught about assuring a masterful kill. She prepped herself mentally, calmed her heart and breathing, and let her mind relax in a large open field to clear the cobwebs and gain focus.  Her yoga breathing was going well when a car came around a corner.  She didn’t want to be seen, so she slumped down beside the rental.  She kept breathing long slow inhale to a count of 10, hold for a count of 10, exhale to a count of 10.  In two of these repetitions, the car had gone past her without slowing down and continued down the street and into the next block.  It was quite dark at that time since a cloud was hiding the moon, there were no street lights, and the only illumination was from a couple of porch lights — not one at the house that was her target.  She’d make sure that it didn’t work before knocking.  SHOES!  Shit.  She’d be better off in heavy socks.  She lifted the trunk lid again, put her shoes inside, grabbed a couple of pairs of socks from her smaller bag, and put them on.  One more time, she put the trunk lid down but did not allow the catch to engage.       

    At the front door, she reached up to the porch light and unscrewed the bulb part-way then she knocked on the door.  Her husband opened the door.  His eyes got wide as he sucked in air and took three steps backward.  The last thing he saw was a tire iron coming at his face, then everything went black.  He never saw anything again.  When his girlfriend came home from the store, she opened the back door and called for him.  He didn’t answer.  She walked from the back entryway into the kitchen and saw that several drawers were open.  On the table, she put down the shopping bag she was carrying along with her purse.  She stood still, listening for a clue as to what could have happened that would create the small mess she saw in the kitchen with the drawers open and utensils scattered about.  Her next thought went to her baby.  She took the back staircase two at a time and reached the nursery at the top of the steps, looked in, and saw that Rebekka was sleeping soundly in her crib with music on low volume just like it should be.  There was nothing amiss there.  Now that she knew all was well with Rebekka, she headed down the hall to the front of the house.  She called for Dave but got no answer.  She didn’t see any lights shining on the first floor.  That seemed strange.  She went down the stairs and immediately slid in something that was on the floor and landed on her butt. She let out a grown and said, “Shit!” and called Dave again.  No answer.  The only light was coming from the kitchen in the back of the house and off to one side.  She couldn’t really see but was aware that something large was on the floor.  The floor was wet, sticky wet.  “Where are you?”  She got up, sliding a bit but not falling since she was prepared this time.  She was feeling her way toward the living room to put on a lamp.  Something crunched underfoot.  She got to the entry to the living room, reached to the table at the side, and pulled the chain.  No light.  She took a step and something crunched underfoot again.  The lamp sat on a chest of drawers.  Inside the second drawer was a flashlight.  She was standing to the side of the chest and didn’t want to move her feet until she could see clearly.  She jiggled the drawer open, found the flashlight, and turned it on.  At her feet, she saw a broken light bulb.  She turned around toward the hallway and was greeted with a bloody mess.  

    Spread out in the middle of a large puddle of blood was Dave, or what might be Dave.  There wasn’t much left of his face.  His shirt was blood-soaked.  She wasn’t able to make a noise.  She was paralyzed in the entryway for almost a full minute before her legs gave out, and she sat down hard on the broken pieces of the light bulb.  The pain of the glass digging deeply into her skin through her pants was enough to snap her from her trance.  She screamed.  She didn’t stop screaming and gasping for air and screaming again for what seemed like half an hour.  Finally, when she had almost no more voice left, she was able to get her wits together, get up off the floor and go to the phone in the kitchen.  She dialed 110 and waited for the dispatcher to come on the line.

    She went upstairs away from all the police action to talk to the officer who was assigned to take her statement.  By this time, Rebekka was awake and hungry.  He took her statement while she breastfed the baby.  An hour away at the car rental return by the airport in Innsbruck, Christen was returning a car and getting her bags and purse from the trunk.  

Chapter 4

The Package 

    For the first few days Christen was home, she jumped at every noise, especially when the phone rang.  She went to work, like usual.  She came home and had dinner with a strong drink, like usual.  She accepted an invitation to a party on Saturday.  She knew they had to be looking for her.  Who else would have done something like that?  She’d made no secret she was there looking for Dave.  Everyone she talked to knew that Dave was married, had a girlfriend, and a baby with the girlfriend.  Most of them knew that Christen had found that out when she was there.  She hadn’t even bothered to cover her tracks.  Time of death would easily fit in with the time she returned the rental and checked in at the airport.  The fact was, she really didn’t care.  At the end of a week home, she started to relax a bit as her mind wrapped itself around the whole situation, and she was able to completely integrate the rest of what was going to happen into her conscious thought streams.  Sunday night came, she had some dinner with a stronger drink than usual and went to bed early after a quick visit to her freezer.  She went to sleep that night feeling very relaxed.

    A few more weeks went by.  She still heard and saw nothing that would indicate that she was even a suspect.  Additionally, the military had not called upon her to announce that her sergeant husband had been murdered, was dead, something, anything.  She wanted to relax but knew that could be a mistake.  It was now beginning to look as though she might be able to get away with beating the hell out of him.  Maybe he wasn’t dead, though.  He’d seemed to be.  The way she’d left him, he should have bled out quickly.  She kept waiting.  Every Sunday night, she made a trip to the freezer before bed and back again before going to sleep.  

    On the fifth Sunday after her return, in the afternoon, she thought she saw a strange car across from her apartment and down the block a bit.  She realized that she might not be home much longer, so she went to the freezer and got out the package from behind the chicken as she had every Sunday since returning home.  She went up to their bedroom, pulled down the covers on the bed, took off her clothes, and sat down on the bed.  She took the outer layers of plastic bag off the package.  She lay down and pictured the good days before Dave had left for Germany,  she massaged her left breast, which was the more sensitive one.  She rolled the nipple between her finger and thumb.  She closed her eyes to picture Dave’s handsome face coming close to her for a kiss.  It was funny.  She’d started to get more pleasure out of the sensation of cold.  When she could feel that she was wet and ready, she plunged Dave’s frozen, dismembered penis into her vagina, holding it by the now loose flaps of skin at the raggedy, cut end.  She moved it in and out in a good rhythm for her.

    When they broke into the house, they found her naked, sleeping soundly, with Dave’s penis beginning to thaw on the nightstand.         

© Bobbi Bartsch Curtis, 2021, All rights reserved.