Murderer in the Family

By Susan Bowmer

The town of Smyrna, Tennessee had long expected Butch McPherson to kill somebody. People thought it was a crying shame his victim was also his wife Emily. With Emily dead and Butch on Death Row, their children must come together to survive.

Growing up fast, they become pawns in the court system. Will they be allowed to stay together? May they see or even speak to their father? Who decides?

The McPhersons are a compilation of many families. The other case histories are true. This may be the only novel you ever read to contain a bibliography.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481746540

Susan Bowmer

Susan Stowell Bowmer was a journalist for about twenty years but prefers fiction. She finds inspiration in everything and anything and loves sharing her writings with others.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

MARCH 15, 1987

Fighting, always fighting! Why didn’t they just try to be nice once in awhile?

Josie McPherson cowered in her bed with her pillow over her ears and blanket over her head. She hated it when her parents fought and for most of her five years that was all they had done! Why couldn’t Butch and Emily just get along like the parents on Married with Children or My Two Dads or just get a divorce like the real I Love Lucy? Dead and divorced in real life, but living ecstatically happy forever in reruns!

The fight had moved from the living room to the kitchen, not a good sign. The living room had a few things to smash or flip over, but the kitchen had infinitely more. Dishes! Pots! Pans! Even weapons, like knives. Josie knew her oldest brother Jerrall would be in his room studying and listening to music through headphones that could muffle if not blot out the sounds of their parents’ fight.

Their middle brothers, Arnie and Mike, were away on a Boy Scout overnight.

For a second, Josie considered flying down the stairs and running into the kitchen with her arms spread wide so she could hug both her parents at the same time. With the strength found only in a five-year-old’s imagination, she could shove her parents back together so they would stand face-to-face long enough to know they still loved each other, and that fighting was just plain stupid!

Josie wished her parents would love each other as much as she loved both of them.

Butch, wearing the permanent tan of an outdoorsman and sporting the sinewy muscles that came only from hard, physical labor, always had an easy smile for his youngest child. Emily had twinkling, blue eyes and little secrets like the Whitman’s Samplers stashed in her dresser drawer, secrets shared only with her daughter.

Josie heard her parents’ voices lower to harsh whispers which was ominously worse than the yelling had been. When they were screaming, Josie at least knew why. When they hissed and whispered, Josie worried they were fighting about her!

The back door opened and slammed shut. Josie hoped only one of her parents had gone outside so the fighting would end. Instead, she heard the crunch of gravel as Butch and Emily crossed the driveway to her father’s pick-up truck.

You wouldn’t dare! Emily snarled.

Right here! Right now! Butch roared. I took you ’til death does us part!’ Now’s as good a time as any!

No! God no! Emily screamed.

Josie ran to her window and saw her father aim his shotgun at her mother’s face.

No! Please! No! Emily shrieked.

Emily’s eyes darted to Josie’s face and then back to her husband.

No! the woman shrieked, raising her hands to shield her face. God, no! Not the children!

Don’t shoot! Josie screamed. Just don’t shoot! She turned and started down the stairs.

The shotgun blast seemed to shake the house. Tears blinded Josie as she tumbled down the last few steps.

Josie crawled to the back door and saw her father holding the shotgun over his head with both hands raised in surrender. On the ground, Emily lay sprawled, her head nearly gone, blood seeming to be everywhere.

Jerrall slid his hands over Josie’s eyes and jerked her back into the kitchen.

Oh, baby! I am so sorry you saw that! Jerrall whispered, holding her and frantically rocking back and forth. So, so sorry!

Jerrall ran, carrying Josie back upstairs. His eyes darted about for a safe place to stash the screaming child. Running outside was not an option. Who knew if Butch planned to kill off the whole family? Using his military training, Jerrall stayed against walls, so as not to be seen through windows or to cast shadows. He fought the instinct to run down the stairs.

Hide up, one of his instructors had told him. Above eye level. People tend to look down and ahead of themselves, not up.

He glanced at the ceiling and yanked down the folding, attic stairs. He wanted to turn on the light but did not want to attract attention to the trapdoor once it was closed. Nothing in the dark not there in the light. You have to be real quiet and stay up here until I come for you, he said.

Josie covered her mouth with her hands, reducing her screams to sobs. She coughed and choked and then got terrifyingly quiet.

Jerrall climbed the first two stairs and then reached up to set his sister in the attic. I’m closing the stairs. Just stay quiet. No one will look for you there. I won’t let anyone hurt you.

Josie had never been closed up in the attic. Her eyes held Jerrall’s until the trapdoor swung closed.

Nothing in the dark not here in the light, was something Butch used to say whenever Josie spoke of pirates under her bed or monsters in the closet. The word, like a mantra, repeated in her head as Josie curled into a tiny ball and shook so hard she was sure she could be heard a block away.

Nothing in the dark not here in the light, she repeated softly. Nothing in the dark not here in the light.

But it was the attic! Who knew what was up there in dark or light?

Josie wanted to get down. Go be with her family. Whatever was going on. Better than to be alone in the dark. So scared, so alone, so dark!

Not totally dark, thanks to the pinpoint ventilation holes in one wall. A little light. Enough to see dust-covered boxes, broken toys, old clothes, stuff nobody wanted but nobody wanted to throw away either.

Josie looked at the trapdoor with its fold-up ladder and wondered if she could get out. Jarrell had seemed so calm, like he knew what was going to happen.

But, how could he? How could Butch shoot Emily like that? Could doctors fix you when you had your head blown off? It happened all the time in cartoons. Josie fought back the urge to vomit as she remembered something else Butch always said, Cartoons aren’t real, honey. You shoot somebody in real life, it could kill them.

Josie vomited twice and wished she could get out of the attic. She strained to hear what was going on.

Outside, dogs barked, doors slammed and excited voices cried and screamed. Using both hands, Butch raised the shotgun over his head in a sign of surrender.

Butch called out, Ya’ll had best call the po-lice now, as steadily as he might have summoned his children to supper.

Josie heard a police siren, then more sirens and shouting and barking. It seemed forever before a police officer opened the trapdoor and unfolded the attic stairs.

You can come down now, the officer said, climbing the steps and wrapping Josie in her arms. My name is Lynnette Turner. I’m a cop. One of the good guys. You okay?

Josie nodded, too scared to speak. Then she sighed. No! she cried. I’m not okay! I want Mommy! I want Daddy!

Lynnette nodded sadly.

Come on, honey, let’s get you someplace else until your grandparents get here. Josie let Lynnette carry her down the steps and out through the front door into total chaos. The street was filled with emergency vehicles including eleven squad cars and three ambulances. A fire truck was parked across the street, its crew staring awkwardly at the house, craning their necks to get a look at Josie.

Her next-door neighbor, Ross Harris, was standing in front of a television camera while an earnest, blond man asked questions. I swear I heard two shots, Ross said, as Josie and Lynnette passed him. Police say he just fired once though. Maybe I heard an echo.

Ross barely nodded at Lynnette and Josie as they passed, but the motion was enough to cause the reporter to spin around, microphone outstretched and sympathetic smile firmly in place.

Talk to the chief, Lynnette said, shifting Josie so neither of their faces could be filmed.

Lynnette put Josie in the back seat of Lynnette’s patrol car and crawled in after her, leaving the door open to avoid being locked inside.

Lynnette handed Josie a thermos of cold water.

Here, drink this. It will help.

Where’s Daddy?

With the police.

Where’s Jerrall?

With the police.

Where’s Mommy?

Lynnette swallowed hard and fought back tears, trying not to think about the bloody remnants of Emily McPherson in the backyard.

In Heaven. With God and the angels.

I miss her.

Having no words of consolation, Lynnette just held Josie tightly.

Lynnette and the rest of the town of Smyrna, Tennessee had long expected this day. Domestic disturbances, child neglect, truancy, assault, drunk driving, drunk and disorderly conduct charges had all been filed at one time or another against Emily and Butch.

Jerrall, the oldest, was