The Voice

By Joanne Johnson

Kirby ONeal prefers the solitude of living in his rustic, modest cabin on the edge of the National Forest. Hes divorced, drinks too much and barely gets along with his only child, Alice.

Some would say hes gifted with keen insight into people coupled with a sharp analytical mind that solves crime. He is a homicide detective, still haunted by a childhood memory of an old woman who sat on her porch staring at him as he rode his bike past her home.

Detective Kirby ONeal is quirky, but respected in his field. He enjoys living on the edge a little too much.

Come ride with him on his roller coaster life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503549937

Joanne Johnson

Joanne lives in central Alberta with her five children and husband. She enjoys writing, teaching spiritual classes, and awakening people on their spiritual soul path.  Publication of her second book Soul’s Awakening is due for release in the Fall of 2010.   [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1

The usual over-cast, grey sky greeted Ellie as she peeked through her blinds. She was slowly savoring her morning coffee in her favorite cup adorned with large, bright, yellow sunflowers painted in an almost child-like fashion.

Snowflakes teasing and pretending to be an innocent preview of winter had been falling lightly now and then for a week. She smirked letting go of the blind with a loud pop. Ellie knew very well what the winter would be like…depressing.

She had lived in this cold, flat metropolitan city her whole life. Daydreams of moving away and finally walking on a sunny beach feeling the warm sand beneath her feet had almost been abandoned. That took money. The few skills she possessed kept her in stocking or clerk positions. Although she got by, she just wasn’t able to save much. Her plan had been rehearsed in her mind many times. It would mean taking only a suitcase filled with her clothes, bare necessities and of course, hitchhiking to the new location instead of spending money on a bus. Selling her furniture, appliances and other belongings would increase her savings. She also knew that if she would improve her appearance and force herself to be friendlier, it might increase her chances of getting a better position. It would be the most difficult thing of all to do.

Subscribing for a year now to the newspapers of three major sunshine cities near the water, she had seen several jobs she was qualified for. Overall, it was a risky, unrealistic plan. Nevertheless, she hung on to her dream. It was all she had.

She glanced at the clock. It was 7:15 am. Quickly stuffing her lunch into a not so bad looking zippered, navy tote she had found at a second hand store, Ellie began her typical weekday.

Throwing on her short, khaki jacket, she headed down the stairs of her apartment into the crisp, fall air to the bus stop. The doors to the bus parted and the same face with the big smile greeted her as she mounted the steps.

Good morning, the driver said,

A silver cross hung outside the collar of his uniform shirt.

Jesus freak! How can anyone be so happy driving a bus day after day?

She always sat on the curb side about half way down and preferably alone. It was a good view of people walking to their various jobs. From there she would study people’s faces and try to guess their secrets.

But Ellie didn’t always take the bus. Sometimes she would walk leaving home 45 minutes early. This allowed her to stop for a couple of pigs in a blanket, as they called them, for breakfast from a rosy-cheeked street vendor. She was very careful to vary her ways of coming and going or shopping for necessities. Walking also gave her a feeling of closeness to others. It allowed her to make eye contact with more people as she studied their faces on their way to work.

Exiting the bus and giving the driver an exaggerated, forced smile, she walked a half block to the department store where she worked. Glancing in the large, plate glass window at the vain, lifeless and perfect-looking dummies dressed in attractive apparel for sale, she caught a glimpse of herself. I should get my hair cut she thought. Ellie had the kind of face you wouldn’t remember. She was thirty-nine, didn’t wear any makeup and had no distinguishing features. Everything just sort of ran together when you looked at her. Her brown hair hung straight down in no particular style. She was 5'2" weighing 110 lbs. Most of her clothes were second hand and usually didn’t fit her that well. Her pants were usually too long mopping the floor as she walked. The only distinguishing thing about her was an unusual small tattoo above her right ankle. It was a dagger with red roses running around the blade. Ellie seemed to fade easily into crowds and surroundings, preferring it.

Feeling edgy, she went about her usual chores at work. A man that closely resembled her father walked up to her asking for the location of men’s ties. At first she felt choked up, turning red in the face, finding it difficult to speak.

Are you all right? he asked.

She nodded yes, but couldn’t look at him. "The ties are about five rows down from the shoes on the left,’ she blurted out. Ellie then quickly shuffled off to the restroom for employees. Once inside, she let out a muffled scream covering her mouth with both hands. There were tiny beads of perspiration dripping from her forehead. She splashed cold water on her face and braced herself with her hands on the sides of the basin.

The usual flashes of her abusing father began to haunt her. He would sneak into her room at night after her mother was asleep saying, ‘Is daddy’s sweet girl going to kiss daddy?’ His breath stunk of whisky. She would feel his hand probing her body under her night gown until it was inside her while his other hand covered her mouth to silence her.

This and other episodes of sexual abuse continued until she was twelve.

Luckily he disappeared one day before her thirteenth birthday and never returned home again. Her mother had filed a Missing Person Report, but they never found him.

That’s when her mother started drinking. Things went downhill after that. Her mother’s successive boyfriends, never lasting more than a couple of months, would come and go at all hours of the night.

Soon they had to move into a shabby neighborhood where the rent was cheaper. Ellie was afraid at night. Occasionally she heard voices under her window and footsteps on the porch. Sometimes someone would jiggle the knob to her bedroom door. This she kept locked with a chair propped against. A baseball bat with a happy face she had painted on it was her nightly companion resting on the pillow beside her.

Ellie was walking home from school one day when she was fifteen. Someone suddenly grabbed her pulling her into the bushes of an old abandoned house with overgrown grass and weeds where she was raped, not by one, but three boys. Ripping her sweater off her, they stuffed it into her mouth so her screams wouldn’t be heard. She laid there sobbing listening to them laugh about what they had just done as they ran away. She finally got up, wiped her tears and sweat with her sweater, and continued walking slowly towards home, now with considerable pain. She never told anyone.

Suddenly realizing she had been gone at least twenty minutes, she scurried back to her paperwork and cart where she had been stocking perfume and cosmetics. A clerk named Sarah asked her, Where have you been? You sure were gone a long time.

To the bathroom. I haven’t been feeling so good lately. I think it’s something I ate. She busily resumed stocking eye shadow and mascara inside the glass case.

Well, don’t eat at the Chinese cafe across the street. A lot of people have been complaining they got sick from it Sarah said.

Good! She bought it. Prissy, nosy little gossip. Ellie hated Sarah. She was always watching others instead of minding her own business. Sarah loved to get people in trouble with the manager, a skinny, frail looking little man with a thin hooked nose and hair he combed over his bald spot He hung around Sarah, falling prey to her flirtations, totally unaware that she was just using him for a raise or higher position. He was swollen with male ego. Ellie found this ridiculous, but entertaining, in view of his appearance.

Ellie had been wondering how to improve her looks for her future job when she moved. She hated to ask Sarah to help her, feeling disgusted with having to spend time with her. But I need to do it now. I can’t keep putting it off.

Sarah had been primping and refreshing her makeup in the customer’s mirror when she approached her. Sarah stopped and looked at her like she had a contagious disease. What do you want?

I was wondering if you could show me how to use makeup the way you do and fix my hair better. I know I’ll never look as good as you. I just want to improve my looks.

Well, I don’t mind if you promise to help me out and take my place so I can go on vacation in three weeks, Sarah said. Mr. Doan said I could go if I showed someone else here what to do. It’s not their normal policy to let someone take off for a whole week until they’ve been here a year. Of course, I never thought of you. We’ll have a lot of work to do in a short time, she added, looking Ellie up and down.

Okay, Ellie said with a nod.

Just come by at 4:30 tomorrow and if I’m not busy with someone we can start.

Somewhat apprehensive and not trusting her type, she was still glad Sarah would help her and it would give her the opportunity to learn a new skill.

She decided to walk home instead of taking the bus. That edgy feeling was still with her as she sat down on a park bench with her White Castle Burger.

What are you waiting for, you mousy little nothing face. Kill him! The voice lashed out.

Dropping her dinner on the ground, she jerked her body to one side trying to get rid of the voice. Yes, she had noticed the obese man sitting on his porch in his dirty undershirt with a cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He always lowered his newspaper to get a better look when she passed by. She had seen his disgusting, sweaty body. He constantly mopped the perspiration off his forehead and neck with a handkerchief.

Kill him! Do it today! What are you waiting for? He’s been watching you, the ’ole leaky fire hydrant! Kill him. Kill him.

Ellie jumped up and began running even though she knew she couldn’t outrun the voice.

Covering her ears, she screamed, Okay! Leave me alone!

Heads turned and stared at her as she ran down the street screaming and talking to herself. Luckily these episodes had not occurred at her present place of employment. She could always change jobs and had several times because of the voice.

Chapter 2

Kirby wished he could skip Christmas and the bitter cold that accompanied it. He didn’t like the changes it brought and preferred to work, ignoring the decorations and festivities of this insidious holiday. It was such an emotional time for people, sometimes accompanied with needless suicides, domestic disputes and too much idle time available to teens.

You can skip my desk, he said to the Girl Scouts who came into the police station yearly to earn badges. The chief let his niece’s troop decorate as a favor to her.

What’s with these hookers, Kirby lowered his voice, remembering the girls were still in the building, dressing up like elves lately over in honky town?

I don’t mind, someone smarted back.

Yeah, another colleague said taking Kirby’s side, I hope Christmas cheer is all their spreading.

Then the Girl Scout leader walked in. You could have heard a pin drop. All eyes were on her. She was a shapely blonde that could have passed for Marilyn Monroe. She sache’d across the testosterone-filled room wearing a soft, clingy, flesh colored cashmere sweater, tight jeans and black leather boots with a half-smile on her face, obviously enjoying the attention. When she disappeared into the hallway, everyone returned to their work.

That’s what I’m talking about! someone said. Kirby shook his head and went back to his report.

Detective Kirby O’Neal had been with the Kansas City Police Department for fifteen years. He longed to move away. His arthritis would benefit from a warmer climate and he missed the days of his youth, salt-water fishing with his dad in their old blue and white