Heartthrob

By Christopher Michael

She remembered him only in a dream-like state of mind. He had been so charismatic, and she had been so young. Not too young to be nave however. She had loved him, and he had loved her. The days they had spent together, lying on a blanket in the soft green grass next to a lazy rolling creek, had yet to be rivaled by other lovers she's had since then. She knew then she would love him for the rest of her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 6, 2009
• ISBN: 9781462830909

Book preview

Copyright © 2009 by Christopher Michael.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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Contents

Part 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Part 2

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Part 3

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Part 4

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

To Jackson

Learning to see world through your eyes helped me to find courage

I thought I’d lost and the desire to dream again.

To Carly

Only through your unwavering love and support could I have become successful. Your devotion has revealed to me the truth of unconditional love.

What we do not make conscious will later become fate.

—Carl Jung

Part 1

The Rest of Your Life

Chapter 1

She remembered him only in a dream-like state of mind. He had been so charismatic, and she had been so young. Not too young to be naive however. She had loved him, and he had loved her. The days they had spent together, lying on a blanket in the soft green grass next to a lazy rolling creek, had yet to be rivaled by other lovers she’d had since then. She knew then she would love him for the rest of her life.

Together they had loved the pains of their teenage lives away. Through the sacred bond between them, which could never be broken by the insanity of society, they had survived. The fact that she was remembering him even now caused tears to fall down her cheeks.

She had always remembered him in times of her life when she felt down or a little depressed. Everybody had their own little thoughts or memories that helped to cheer them up when they’d had a bad day.

Why should I be any different?

Feeling those tears stream down her face released her body from the effect of shock it had been in. Suddenly she looked at her attacker with hatred and anger. As she inhaled, she gathered her defenses, but it was too late.

He grabbed her right arm with his left hand and quickly sidestepped to her left and around her, capturing her arms and pulling her back closer to his body. He tightened his grip. Still dazed and unbalanced from the swiftness of the movement, she could not seem to summon the energy to fight him off. He held her tight against him, reaching up to the back of her spine now and pulling her head back with her hair so he could look at her face over her shoulder.

His face seemed to glow as if lit by candlelight, and the slight smell of incense in the air confused her. While his eyes burned through hers, she felt the sharp, gut-wrenching sting of something cutting between her ribs and slowly digging deeper and deeper into her chest.

Her eyes were wide with fear, and her mouth was somehow stuck open in an effort to scream from the pain, but she could not make a sound. Her breath held as her body shuddered and twitched on the knife. All she could do was stare back at him in a breathless panic.

I can feel your heart beating against mine, he whispered, never looking away.

He said it so gently it was almost romantic. She felt as if she must be in some Shakespearean play—that this could not be real. She was startled when she saw what seemed like such profound passion and love in his eyes. However the horrific pain in her chest told revealed something entirely different. He looked into her eyes, and in the few remaining seconds of her life, she heard him softly say, Tonight I have loved a beautiful woman. I shall love you for the rest of your life.

The look of horror still on her face, her eyes slowly grew empty, and the life that once occupied her body left her forever. He closed her eyes and tenderly kissed her lips, savoring the sweet taste of a passionate death.

This was something only he could understand. The rest of the world was too busy trying to rip everyone off. Every day restless souls were trying to be the richest, most popular people in town. Their minds were too occupied by lust and greed to understand anything at all about what’s sacred in life.

That’s why it took him so long to find a lover for these special occasions. Even this one had been a disappointment. Not everyone understood the intellectual capacity of love. Most were still hanging out at the bars, drinking themselves into a drunken stupor, and waking up the next morning with someone they had only just met.

When would they wake up and realize that sex is not love?

He pondered how civilization had grown so ignorant of even the most basic morals and virtues—like love and respect—not just for a person’s self, but for others as well.

When would they realize that their lust and their greed would be the downfall of them all?

The world was truly falling down around him. That’s why nights like this were so important to him. Without nights like this, he would truly go insane.

Chapter 2

Dr. Murray Burke, the dean of Lynchburg College, was slowly awakened from a restful slumber by the deep-baritone tolling of a bell. Since the only bell on campus was located at the Victory Bell Tower out by Shellenberger Field and it was being rung at almost three o’clock in the morning, it struck him as odd but not of great concern.

Some freshman must be trying to get into a fraternity again, he thought to himself. The ringing of the bell soon dissipated, and he simply closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

The following morning, the dean settled into his office for his daily duties. He removed some folders from his desk and made a place for his morning coffee. His secretary came in with his messages and schedule for the day.

Hi, Rose. How are you this morning? the dean asked.

I’m fine. I probably could have slept better if that bell hadn’t started ringing in the middle of the night.

And here I thought I was the only one who couldn’t sleep last night. He smiled.

Rose Silesky was an undergraduate student at Lynchburg and helped to pay for her tuition by working as the dean’s secretary. Rose was one of the most prominent students in the school. Her slim athletic figure, long dark hair, and brown eyes—not to mention the fact that she was dating the dean’s son—helped to make her one of the most popular students on campus.

By the way, sir, it appears that you have a special invitation here with your mail this morning. It actually looks rather extravagant, she said with a bit of excitement.

Oh really? I wonder what charity event I’ve been invited to now, he said.

I don’t know, sir. Hopefully it’s the charity for quieter sleeping arrangements on campus. She scowled facetiously and smiled as she left his office.

She was right. The invitation did seem a bit extravagant. With its cream-colored paper and its dark maroon-colored penmanship came a slight fragrance. Without further hesitation, he opened the envelope.

At first, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The shock caused him to vomit all over his desk. Inside the invitation lay the removed skin of a woman’s breast… the nipple. He now realized that the slight fragrance was that of decomposing human flesh! This was an invitation to a nightmare he had never dreamed of. The invitation read,

With the ringing of The Victory Bell I held a beautiful young lady.

I loved her for the rest of her life.

I invite you to revel in our communion at the Beaver Point Clubhouse.

Rose! Get me the police now! he shouted.

What’s wrong, sir? she hollered back.

She came running into his office. Upon reaching his desk, she was stopped short. The contents of the opened invitation lying amongst the dean’s regurgitated breakfast seemed to paralyze her.

Oh my god, is that what I think it is? she said as her expression twisted in disgust.

Suddenly Rose’s face turned pale, and she collapsed to the floor in faint. His hands still shaking, the dean picked up the phone and called the police. With all of the distress caused by his discovery, he couldn’t help but fall back into his chair.

Chapter 3

Detective Thomas Jackson’s drive to work every day was almost as stressful as his job working on endless leads in homicide investigations. It was one of those never-ending chores—like washing the dishes or doing the laundry—that were just impossible to like but has to be done. It seemed like every Monday, the traffic just got worse. The commute seemed to become more painful every day—and longer. At least the day looked like it would shape up to be a nice one he thought.

He could see the oranges and reds of the day begin to overtake the indigo of the night before. Now at forty-two years old, it was more of a challenge to keep up his young athletic shape. However, at six foot two and 190 pounds, his appearance was still something to be reckoned with. The only signs of aging were the strays of gray hair that were beginning to infiltrate his sideburns.

Jackson couldn’t complain though. During his travels around the world when he was a marine scout and sniper, he’d seen and done things most people had only dreamed of. Though some things were tragic and sometimes he’d been forced to kill in defense of his country, he had no regrets and was proud of the service he’d given to the corps. Not only that, but he’d also used the marine corps to his advantage as much as it had used him.

During his four-year enlistment, he had earned a master’s degree in psychology and another in philosophy. His belief was that before you could begin to understand a certain philosophy, you first have to understand the psychology behind it. He heard his ringtone, Take it Easy by the Eagles, suddenly start playing. He recognized the number as his partner’s, Detective Ash, and answered his phone.

This is Jackson, he answered with a commanding voice.

Hey, Jack, we got a possible homicide at the Lynchburg College. Captain wants us at the dean’s office in fifteen. I’ll see you there. The phone clicked off.

Detective Payton Ashley had been his partner for almost two years now. Jack was a nickname she’d given him. He didn’t mind it much. Actually, it worked out ok because he called her Ash. When they had first been assigned together, he didn’t know what to expect. Since then, his opinion had changed. In most cases, her intuition and intelligence exceeded most of the partners he’d had in the past.

They had solved their share of cases though. Statistically, they had the highest rate of cases solved than any of the other detectives. In fact, when other detectives heard about the nicknames they had for each other, their jealousy became evident. They gave them a nickname of their own. A mockery to be whispered around in certain circles behind their backs. They became known as the Jack-Ash team.

He smiled in admiration of her. She had a tough exterior, was strong willed, and was very confident in herself. She was certainly a poster girl homicide detective for the mayor. In fact, she was the first female homicide detective in the city. Standing at five foot nine, weighing 115 pounds, and blessed with good looks, she was an attractive and inspiring role model for the female population of Lynchburg.

Some said that the only reason the chief had appointed her detective was to be able to refute any type of sexual bias or discrimination claims in the police force. In any case, she had proven to be good at her job, and he had come to trust her. He trusted her as much as he’d trusted any partner… even with his life.

Driving down College Drive in his midnight blue police-issue Crown Victoria, he approached the administration building. There were two black-and-whites already there in front of the building. He pulled up behind them and parked. As he began to walk up the stairs, he was met halfway by Detective Ashley. She’d been waiting for him at the top.

What do we have? Jackson asked.

What? No good morning, no how are you, how was your weekend? she said with light humor and a sarcastic smile.

Hey, it’s Monday, he said wryly.

You know, you should really think about trying to get some sleep, Jack, she said with a playful chuckle.

He just stared impassively at her in silence for a second. Then she got straight to business, which was usually her way.

All right, we’re on our way up to the dean’s office. Nine-one-one operators received a call from the dean this morning about a possible homicide. However, the catch is there’s no crime scene. Jackson stopped.

What? He looked up at her.

There’s no body, she replied.

Well, then what makes him think there’s a possible homicide? He looked at her as if a piece of the puzzle was missing.

Well, that’s what we’re here to figure out now, isn’t it? Come on, let’s go, she said with sassiness and a cute smile.

As they entered the dean’s office, two officers were there questioning the dean and his secretary. Jackson’s attention was quickly drawn away from the impressive stained wooden walls by a strong, musky smell. He let his nose follow the distasteful scent. It seemed to be emanating from the dean’s desk. Looking at the top of the desk, he immediately determined the source. It appeared that the good dean had regurgitated his bacon and eggs with orange juice on top of his desk, covering all of his messages and mail.

Well, I guess we know what he had for breakfast, Detective Jackson said with a comical smirk.

Jackson’s first impression of the dean was that he didn’t have the stomach for the sometimes-cruel and—gruesome details of life. This knowledge would be cataloged and filed away in his memory if ever he needed to use it. As he watched the officers question him, he could see the dean cowering down, holding his face in his hands from the embarrassment of losing his breakfast. Evidently, his fear was genuine. He looked rather ashamed. Jack and Ash approached him.

Hello, Dr. Burke. I’m Detective Jackson, and this is Detective Ashley. We’re with homicide. It’s our understanding that you reported a murder this morning. What can you tell us about it, sir?

The dean looked up with a solemn face. Beads of sweat covered his balding head. There was still a bit of fright in his eyes.

Over there, on my desk. There’s an invitation that I received this morning. I thought it was from some charity event inviting me to attend. I speak at them to try and encourage more donations to help the students. We raised over three-hundred thousand dollars last year alone, he said.

He was proud of his accomplishment for the school. He didn’t sound like a politician running for office, listing a record of good deeds for appearance purposes. It looked as if he were passionate about his work and took it seriously.

There’s sort of an unwritten list amongst all of the schools, churches, and other nonprofit organizations, and the school is on it. I get invited to these things all the time, so it didn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary. But then I noticed it had some sort of weird smell, almost fragrant.

How do you mean? What kind of smell? Detective Ash inquired.

Well, I didn’t know at the time, but when I opened it, something fell from the envelope on to my desk. Then I saw what it was. That smell was coming from a piece of human flesh removed from what looks like a woman’s breast. The dean looked pale as if he needed a doctor.

A woman’s breast? Ash asked in disbelief.

That’s right. Anyways, while I read the invitation, I began to get dizzy. The smell was just… and when I realized what it was coming from it was just too much. And well, you can see the result. He nodded toward the mess on the desk.

Where’s the letter now, sir? Detective Ashley asked.

It’s still lying over there on my desk, in that mess that I made.

The dean looked away as if in another place, possibly still reliving that morning’s experience. Jackson walked over to the desk. Removing a rubber glove from his sports coat pocket and pulling it on his hand, he found one of the dean’s pens on the desk and picked it up. He wasn’t going to ruin one of his good pens.

Expertly he fished the letter out of the