Obsession by Beth Stafford (feel good books .txt) 📖

to go through Lawrence's home.
At first, Lawrence protested. He said there wasn't enough evidence to obtain a Search Warrant, and that he'd like to have his lawyer present. In reality, Lawrence just wanted to get them out of his house long enough for him to skip town. The heat was getting too intense for him.
Bill gladly obliged, and had a lawyer come by and check out the Warrant.
"This all checks out, Lawrence. You have to let 'em do it."
Lawrence, the shock plainly written on his face, nodded in agreement. His thoughts trailed to the shirt he'd worn on Thursday night, still sitting at the bottom of his laundry basket, still with his blood on the hem. He sat on the steps of his house and waited.

~~~

The team detailing the house found nothing. The team detailing his blue Mazda 2, however, found a lot. Wedged between the side door and the seat was a single strand of brunette hair, hair that was too long and too dark to ever be Lawrence's. And on the back of the driver's seat were a series of smudged shoe-marks, looking to be about the size of a lady's foot. Bill arrested Lawrence on suspicion of being connected to Tanya's disappearance, and sent the strand of hair to be analysed by DNA experts.
Now Lawrence was really panicking. He'd always thought of himself as a smooth-talker, but there was no way he'd talk his way out of this one. He sat in the corner of his cell, head between his knees, trying to loosen the knot of anxiety that had formed in his stomach and grown ever larger as the days progressed.
On the fourth day, a burly looking sergeant came in to take a cast of the bite-mark on his arm. When compared to Tanya Jackson's dental records, it matched perfectly.
Two weeks later, the DNA results came back. They said, with 99.99% certainty, that the strand of hair found in the back of Lawrence Cudrow's car was that of Tanya Jackson.
He was charged with murder. Sure, no body had been found, but with the evidence they'd found they saw no reason why a jury wouldn't condemn him. The prosecution was pushing for the death sentence.
Lawrence was to be transferred to a large prison to await trial, a place with maximum security and zero hope. On the last night he was scheduled to stay in Bill Hodge's cell, he got a visitor.
At first, Bill didn't want to let Reginald through. The man had been through Hell, and the dark shadows under his eyes were a testament to that. He hadn't shaved in weeks, and his face looked gaunt and drawn.
"Please Bill, I need to see the man who did it. I need to ask him why."
Bill obliged. Reginald was an old, dear friend. He deserved this last confrontation. Bill led him through to the cell block and locked him in, leaving him alone with Lawrence.
Lawrence was sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes glazed and emotionless. He barely reacted when Reginald took a seat outside his cell, his hands wrapped so tightly around the bars you could see the white bone of his knuckled beneath.
"Why, Lawrence. Why did you take her away from me?"
Lawrence shrugged. He couldn't answer the man in a way he'd understand. He'd never be able to understand his Love.
"She was my baby, Lawrence," tears began to stream down Reginald's face, pooling above his mouth and dripping off his chin. "She was my entire world. She was my life. She was my turtle-dove."
Lawrence looked up at the name of R.J's bar. Lawrence looked up in time to see the barrel of a gun pointed squarely at his head.
"Going to prison and getting the lethal injection isn't good enough for you," Reginald growled. "You don't deserve that. You snatched away my Tanya's life, and now I'm going to snatch away yours."
The sound of the gun blast shattered the silence of the Sheriff's station. At once, Bill knew what had happened. He flew into the cell-block, panting hysterically, and saw Reginald standing outside the cell, his head resting against the bars, a pool of blood spread out beneath him. Lawrence was dead, sprawled on the floor of the cell like he'd been kicked from within.
Reginald's body shook with the force of his sobs. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Bill. I just couldn't let him live. I just..."
Reginald raised the pistol to his temple, his finger on the trigger.
"No, R.J!" Bill threw himself against his old friend, wrestling the gun away. "Don't give him that satisfaction."
"I just want to be with Tanya," he said. "I can't live this way."
"Tanya wouldn't want you to take your life," Bill said. "She wouldn't want you to die. She'll be waitin' for you up there, but you need to go in your own time."
Reginald slid to the floor, giving into the well of grief building up within him.
"You're going to need to leave town," Bill said. "I won't try to stop you. I won't try to find you, but I'll make it look like I'm damn sure tryin'. Go settle somewhere new, start fresh."
Reginald raised a tear-streaked face, disbelief alight there. "You sure?"
"Positive. No go on, get! I'm going to have to call back-up in about... Half an hour."
Reginald smiled. "You're a good friend, Bill. Thank-you."
"Write me sometime, won't you? Let me know how you're doin'?"
"Of course."
Reginald got to his feet, gave Bill one, last grateful smile, before taking off through the open cell-block door.

~~~

According to Bill Hodge, Reginald had over-powered him, shot Lawrence, and then made a run for it. Bill had tried to stop him, he really had. His superiors had swallowed the story without much questioning, and the whole fiasco was swept under the carpet like a bad dream. Lawrence was disposed of, buried with him the location of Tanya's body, and his Box of Secrets.

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Text: © Beth Stafford, 2012
Publication Date: 02-29-2012

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