The Days After

By Van Windsor

A familys home gets broken into. The small-town gossip begins to spread as the case for the burglars ensues. Detective Frank Simmons leads the cause and uncovers dark truths about the family, the neighborhood, and even his own partner. A young boy in the hospital, an officer looking to redeem his reputation, and a beautiful girl are stuck in between all of the chaos.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543454109

Van Windsor

As a psychology student at the University of Missouri-Columbia, I've always been interested in how people react. How they think. This story is an experiment in that. I think that my inspiration comes from the Stephen King novel Mr. Mercedes. For me, I try to add enough realism into a story as I can, at least with a character's thought processes, but a touch of the surreal can always keep the reader guessing.

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by Van Windsor.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2017914987

ISBN:      Hardcover          978-1-5434-5412-3

                Softcover            978-1-5434-5411-6

                eBook                 978-1-5434-5410-9

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 09/26/2017

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CONTENTS

Part 1

Simmons

Jessica Part I

Jessica Part II

Simmons

Jessica

Simmons

Interrogation with Charlie Mill

Jessica

Simmons

Riley

Randall

Part 2

Margaret

Simmons

Jessica

Margaret

Riley

Margaret

Jessica

Simmons

Ronnie

Randall

Simmons

Margaret

Margaret

Jessica

Simmons

Damien’s Birthday

Jessica

Simmons

Margaret

Robert

Jessica

Damien

Simmons

Simmons

Jessica

Simmons

Randall

Riley

Jessica

Simmons

Ronnie

Simmons

Jessica

Riley

Ronnie

Jessica

Simmons

Jessica

Simmons

Part 3

Jessica

Epilogue

Jessica

Part 1

Liscum County Gazette - Wednesday, May 1, 2017

Local police are still investigating the break-in of the Wallace family home that took place on Sunday, April 29. All police are sure of is there were at least three perpetrators involved. One of the individuals, Randall Thimes, is currently being held in custody after being seen fleeing the scene the same night. Randall has yet to comment on the events that took place and his involvement. If anyone has any information regarding the case, please inform the police department. Our thoughts and prayers go to their youngest, Damien, and the rest of the family.

News spreads fast in a small town, and this was the biggest thing to happen in Liscum since a couple of teenage boys hopped the fence of Harold Thompson’s farm and spooked his bull into charging, sending one of them to the hospital for a broken leg. No doubt it will be the main topic of discussion for the old church gossipers, as well as small talk in-between grocery aisles, and especially at school for the next few months. Therefore, Detectives Riley and Simmons, the police investigators trying to solve the Wallace break-in case, advised Jessica Wallace to stay home or be with her family, especially Damien, her younger brother. A lot of people can forget about sensitivities when trying to dig up information that doesn’t belong to them after a traumatic event.

Simmons

It can all become very overwhelming, Jessica, explained Detective Simmons as he sipped at the coffee. It was still too hot for his liking, but he needed the caffeine kick. The last few nights had been utter hell—reading over case files, interrogating a suspect who ain’t no snitch! as he liked to remind the detectives, not to mention the stress of his collapsing marriage racing against his soon-to-be retirement from the force. He itched the short hairs sprouting off his chin. I get that you want to get out of the house, Jessica, but you have to understand how people react to things like this, he said, taking another quick sip. It went down smoother than before, and Simmons let the bitter brown liquid flush away everything else going on in his life that didn’t involve this scared little girl. The steam was starting to fog the bottom of his rectangular glasses. "Everybody wants to know every detail of the story, and most tend to forget that you were in the middle of it all, that you would rather not relive the nightmare with every new face asking the same questions." His green eyes are warm and comforting behind the thick glasses. He’s a ruggedly handsome man with a short beard speckled with gray, which makes him look older than he is. He slid one hand over the stiff armchair decorated with green-and-white stripes from top to bottom and pink flowers falling down the middle. The man on his right looked like a complete opposite of Simmons.

Detective Riley is a clean-shaven young man in his mid-twenties with a chiseled jaw that makes him look like a Hollywood dreamboat. His head is buzzed on both sides with a patch of thick, long strands of blond on top combed back and glistening from the yellow lamplight in the corner of the room. His burly arms rested on the back of a wooden chair brought in from the dining room. His eyes danced up and down the body lying on the couch in front of him.

Across the two investigators, a fragile-looking sixteen-year-old girl was lying unperturbed on a large couch bearing the same striped and floral design as the chair occupied by the older detective. Grayish circles were beginning to show under her bright auburn eyes. Her white T-shirt lay fittingly over her chest, giving her breasts the appearance of two small snowcapped mounds. She had one freshly shaven tan leg raised with the foot disappearing lazily behind the back of the couch, while the other rested comfortably on the cushion.

Her gaze wandered across the various pictures sporadically hung around the room—happy pictures of a happy family doing happy activities together. One showed Jessica at a young age sitting on the shoulders of a tall and lean man with muscular arms hiking up a hill. Another was a group shot of four wide-smiled people posing in front of a track with blurry runners frozen mid-stride behind them. Jessica saw herself standing tall and proud at the front of the group, holding up a golden medal hanging by her neck with red ribbon. In the back was her father again with one large hand folded around her shoulder. He was wearing black Ray-Bans, but it was clear that his eyes were beaming with the kind of pride that only a father can feel toward his child. To his left was a shorter brunet woman with a small toddler in one arm. The little boy was staring at the camera, but it was obvious he didn’t know what was happening. Her mother’s free hand was pulling the collar of her bright-green T-shirt so it can be read. Run Jess Run! was written in bright-blue text across the middle. Beneath the cheer read smaller but in the same blue text, Missouri State High School Track and Field SHOW ME What You Got. Jessica stared blankly at this picture. She could hear the deep, strained voice of Simmons but didn’t shift her attention.

Jessica, please, voiced Simmons, who had been patiently trying to console Jessica for over ten minutes now. I know it’s hard, but if you cooperate, we can get this done a lot faster. He followed her eyesight to a picture on the wall of her family at what appeared to be a track meet. She must’ve just won a medal. He looked at his watch and then at his partner, who was almost drooling over an underage girl, who no more than three days ago witnessed horrible acts occur in this very house. He kicked at Riley’s foot and nodded toward Jessica with his get-your-head-outta-your-ass look.

Riley sat up in his chair with a start and looked over like Simmons just woke him up halfway through a great dream. He caught the classic you’re-in-deep-shit look, and he turned back to Jessica with a more professional look. He forced himself not to look at her smooth and well-toned legs and said, Jessica, I know this is hard, but if you cooperate, we— He stared at Simmons with strong annoyance after he received another swift kick to his shin. Simmons was rolling his eyes now and rolled his hand in an outward circle to show him to move past the formalities. Riley’s eyes opened with understanding and annoyance. He coughed noticeably into a balled fist. Jessica, he said more sternly, we want to know exactly what happened here three nights ago. This caught Jessica’s attention, and she brought her raised foot back while pivoting her body into a sitting position. Her eyes stared blankly at Riley’s face. He coughed again. This time to clear a clogged throat. I know it’ll be hard for you, but you need to try and give as many details as possible. Can you do that for us? One side of his mouth curled in a half smile, the kind James Bond would do to melt a woman’s heart.

Simmons cut in with a softer tone in his voice. Thank you for helping us, Jessica. We promise this will be over very soon. He pulled a small notepad and pen from the side pocket of his black coat. He pressed the bottom of the pen, and there were two distinct clicks. Okay now, if you can, do you remember what you were doing when the robbery occurred?

Jessica’s eyes rolled up like the answer to the detective’s question was written on the ceiling. Her voice was small but slowly built in confidence as she remembered the events. Um, I was studying. For my geometry test on Tuesday. I was lying on my bed, studying for my geometry test. Her eyes went back to Simmons, who was scrawling something on his notepad.

Good girl, muttered Simmons like an exhausted owner who finally got his dog to shake. He was still looking down at his notes. What next?

That was when I heard whispers downstairs. continued Jessica. Her gaze was on Simmons’s brown loafers, but she was watching the mental replay of that night in her mind’s eye. I figured it was just my dad taking out the trash or getting a midnight snack or something."

Simmons kept writing, and Riley asked quizzically, "Hang on, how did you hear voices from downstairs from all the way upstairs in your room?"

Jessica lazily pointed behind her to a white vent screwed into the wall next to the ceiling. A fine layer of dust clung to the just-out-of-arm’s-length metal The vents. There’s one in my room, and I can hear almost everything that happens down here. She lowered her hand back to her lap.

Riley leaned onto the back of the chair again and asked, Interesting. When did you realize that it wasn’t anyone in your family like your dad making himself a ham and cheese sandwich?

Jessica’s body froze, and her face had a look of guilt and grief twisted together. She struggled to get the words out. I … There was … I heard a glass break, so I got up and walked to my door. Her eyes were glazed like she was seeing the events unfold right in front of her. I opened the door, and it made a loud squeaking noise. Then everything got really, really quiet. She was trembling a little. Simmons finally looked up again and noticed this. He and Riley shared a look of concern.

It’s okay, Jess, Detective Riley said, comforting her. Just breathe slowly. May I call you, Jess?

Her eyes darted to Riley’s. His face was calm and inviting. She nodded quick and small. She took a deep breath, then another. Her heartbeat was slower, and she continued. It was really quiet, and everything felt weird, like in the air. She waved her hands around her head like she was trying to waft away a bad smell. Detective Riley couldn’t help but grin at the gesture. Something didn’t feel right. You know what I mean? They both nodded slowly.

Simmons had a monotone sound to him. You’re doing great, Jessica. Then what happened?

She swallowed the saliva building up in her mouth. It left a bad taste in her mouth like when she forgets to brush her teeth before bed. I saw a head poke around the doorway next to the stairs—she pointed through the empty doorframe to the right of the couch she was sitting on— then it was gone. I stood at my door for what seemed like forever. I didn’t know what was going on at first.

That’s completely understandable, chimed in Simmons, happens a lot with break-ins. People think that it will never happen to their house, and when it does, their brain can’t process what’s happening for a few seconds. I call it deer-in-the-headlights syndrome. Please continue. He placed the point of his pen back on the paper, ready to copy her every word.

Thank you, she said with an innocent pitch. Still trembling, Jessica readjusted herself on the couch and leaned back into the cold polyester. She crossed her arms firmly under her breasts, and they filled out under the shirt a little more. She caught Detective Riley glancing at this. She didn’t mind. A hard breath escaped her lungs before continuing her story. Well, I was standing at my doorway, waiting … for … I don’t know. Something to happen, I guess. Her eyes fell to the detectives’ shoes again. Then before I knew what was happening, I saw two men charging up the stairs and laughing to themselves. Her voice was shaking, and Simmons noticed her eyes getting wet. Riley noticed the glimmering light bouncing off her eyes. "They were mumbling things to each other, but I couldn’t hear what they said. I was just so scared!" Her voice rose in a choking cry.

Without hesitation, Detective Riley leaped over the back of his chair and placed himself beside Jessica. He wrapped one muscled arm around her slender shoulders and she buried her face into his firm chest like a damsel in distress being rescued by the daring hero. He slid his hand up and down the smooth skin of her upper arm. He kept his eyes away from his partner. He knew the face he would see. Putting on his most concerned face, he chanced a glance to Simmons, who was sitting in his chair, arms crossed, and shaking his head with a look of distaste emanating over his slightly wrinkled face. Riley ignored it and returned to the crying girl, who was getting the front of his gray button up wet. I think we’re done here, Simmons. Let’s try this again another time.

Jessica

Part I

The next morning, Jessica slapped a hand onto her alarm clock at six o’clock sharp. A soft orange glow bled through the blinds of her window. She sat up and pulled the turquoise robe her mother had gotten her last Christmas off the headrest and slid it over her shoulders. The velour fabric is soft and blocks the cold air pumping in from the vent from freezing her solid. She dragged her feet across the shaggy brown carpet and sat at the wooden makeup table next to the door. She leaned toward the mirror and blinked a few times to focus her eyes on the blurry reflection looking back at her. The image sharpened, and she almost shrieked in fright at the almost-unrecognizable person staring back at her. She hadn’t looked at herself since the break-in three nights before. She padded fingers lightly around the dark bags hanging under her eyes. Her face appeared to be lacking in color, and she licked at her thin lips riddled with small cracks. That’s what happens when one gets only six hours of sleep in a week, Jessica thought indifferently.

A half hour filled with foundation, lipstick, eyeliner, and tiresome brushing of her hair that was inevitably given up in exchange for a messy bun settled on her head passed quickly. Jessica gave her now-approachable self a soft smile of approval. She walked, now with the newfound energy of being awake, to her closet door and swung it open. The brief slap of cold air made her body shudder. She reached for a sensible black tee decorated with large red lips and a long tongue hanging between them. She shut the door and tossed the shirt onto a bundle of blankets tangled on the bed. She then opened the third drawer from the dresser left of the door and grabbed at the first feeling of denim. Yanking the skinny jeans over her well-curved hips, she went back to recover the shirt. She slid it over her head and observed herself in the mirror again. She judged the reflection from one side and then the other and then a quick twirl to see how it looked in the back. She wondered if Detective Riley would like what she had chosen to wear.

Her thoughts ran to his large bicep pressing into her shoulder as he held her yesterday evening. His chest was smooth from the button up he was wearing, but she could still remember the heat coming through and drying her tears. She tossed those memories away. She shouldn’t let her mind think it was anything more than an officer of the law consoling a traumatized victim. He was much too old for her anyway.

But maybe not.

She opened the bedroom door slowly and peeked around the hallway. Her parents’ door was still hanging half open. Mom must still be at the hospital, she thought. She gently pushed at the door with her fingertips and tiptoed over the carpet. The door creaked with disapproval, and she froze again, just like she did that night. The fear was rising from her knees and crawling up her spine to freeze her in place once more. Her eyes focused on the steps across her door, and she waited, waited to see that ugly, toad-like face poke around the doorframe, waited for the two monsters to stomp up the stairs to get her. Only this time, she didn’t think she would get so lucky a second time.

After what felt like hours, but was really only about three minutes, Jessica inhaled deeply and continued to walk out of her room and toward the stairs. Stepping lightly down, her eyes were stuck on that right doorframe leading into the living room. She could feel her heart ready to shoot straight out of her rib cage and fall down the steps, just like her brother did when her mother had dropped him that night. Jessica didn’t see it happen, but she could hear it, the small thuds of his tiny body hitting the steps followed by incoherent cries of pain and then … Then the crying stopped. She could still hear him falling, but no sound came from Damien after that. Jessica could feel the water building at the bottom of her eyes, but she did not let them fall. She had to look strong. She needed to be strong.

Grabbing her lime-green backpack from the floor next to the door and unhooking her assortment of keys, she opened the front door and strode outside. Her dark-gray Malibu was parked on the curb in front of the house. Usually, she would walk to school since it was only a mile away, but she didn’t want to be caught unprepared to answer questions by nosy neighbors. Even at the crack of dawn one can never be too careful. Jessica threw her backpack into the passenger seat, where it bounced heavily before falling headfirst onto the floor of the car. When she turned the key, the car briefly chortled and then began to purr. The radio was silent, but that was how she liked it. Jessica enjoyed being alone with her thoughts. Unfortunately, her thoughts were changing more than a teenaged girl preparing for her first date. Damien, toad face, Riley, Dad. She even thought about Randall, who was sitting in prison right now, probably eating underfunded prison food with his cellmate. That thought worried her. She sped the Malibu down the empty street.

Jessica

Part II

It took almost no time to find an available parking spot at Liscum High since Jessica had left so early. The parade of students wouldn’t even be pulling in until the warning bell rang five minutes before first period began. She spied an empty spot in between a group of four other cars parked closest to the main entrance. Her tires crunched as they rolled over the loose asphalt flattened by fifty years of abusive student drivers. Turning her head to the surrounding cars, Jessica made sure that whoever was still sitting in the seats got out and walked into the school. Not until Stephanie Giles finally locked her car upon exiting did Jessica begin putting everything into her backpack. She made one quick glance at her reflection to scrutinize the rushed work of her blue moon eye shadow. Confirming its barely passable style, Jessica watched Stephanie skip merrily toward the long overhang at the front of the school leading to the two black doors.

The long overhang resembled a canopy-like tunnel to Jessica. A flat top supported by uniformed poles held in the cement along the edges. She didn’t know what that type of architecture is called, but she didn’t think it was worth the thought. The Liscum Wind Tunnel was how it was known to the students and faculty alike. It was called this because of the strong gusts of winds that rush through from seemingly nowhere. Jessica couldn’t help but smirk when she witnessed Stephanie’s five-subject notebook suddenly flapped wildly out from under her tightly tucked armpit. Stephanie Giles was known around Liscum High as a goody-goody, a know-it-all, but mostly as a stuck-up bitch. Her mid-length gray-and-white plaid skirt also tried to escape her in the wind but just flipped inside out and covered her light-pink collared shirt. Jessica ducked her head a few inches behind the steering wheel so Stephanie wouldn’t know that she was watching. Before planking one arm down her side to hide her pink-tinted underwear, Jessica caught a glimpse at Stephanie’s surprisingly nice thighs, smooth and toned with muscle. Good for her.

Jessica peeped for another minute as Stephanie gathered the scattered papers that flew from the confines of her notebook. After everything was set back to normal, Stephanie twirled in the Liscum Wind Tunnel. Surveying the area for anybody who could be watching her, Jessica stooped lower into her seat. With a small nod of approval, Stephanie began skipping to the door and entered the building. Jessica snickered at the whole situation. She collected her things and began following Stephanie’s path.

Jessica swung the heavy black front door and was blown back by the warm air from inside the school, but at the same moment, she was pushed forward by the force of the wind tunnel. Walking into a wide hallway, two sets of wooden doors lined on the right wall, both leading into the gymnasium. Jessica patted the top of her head to make sure that her bun was still intact. She scanned her reflection in the small rectangular window on the first set of wooden doors to get a second opinion. The gym was still dark, so Jessica had an almost clear mirror image of herself to look over. Turning on her heels, she walked past the front doors down another hallway. She gave a quick look into the large office window on her right and swiveled her eyes to her shoes when she noticed Mrs. Lannel, the high school secretary and grade A basket case, knocking on the glass and waving her bony hand in a giant fan motion. Her yellowing teeth took up more than half of her wide-open smile. Jessica kept walking, trying to give the appearance that she hadn’t noticed.

The hallway opened into a large square commons area filled with five rows of long wooden tables for students to eat or do homework between classes. Only three of Jessica’s peers occupied the room. Sitting at the table in the left corner furthest back from Jessica closest to the small entrance into the kitchen was Carl Perkins. He leaned back into the table and rapped his fingers on the flat surface like he was playing an invisible piano in a constant crescendo. Behind the shaggy brown hair, his eyes were stuck on the kitchen entrance, waiting for the freshly made breakfast to be prepared. In the same row as Carl but on the far right sat Christy Stevens in her white-and-blue-decorated cheerleading uniform scanning through a textbook. She caught a glimpse of Jessica but quickly returned her attention to the book she was reading and brushed a runaway strand of golden hair behind her left ear. And of course, sitting dead center in the square room was Stephanie flipping through numerous notebooks and folders strewn across her table in a three-foot radius. Jessica clasped her hands together and continued walking past the commons and down the second hallway ahead.

Ten steps past the commons and right next to the small academic trophy case, Jessica stood at her locker. Like the others around it, her locker was a dirty blue color, poorly painted and repainted after years of wear and tear. Turning the circular lock below the handle right three spins to 34, left to 23, and right again to 1, she felt the latch stick and pulled the skinny metal handle up, and the old locker lurched open.

She stood considering the tiny dark book closet before making a move. She pulled out her green notebook labeled Math/English/History, her first three classes, and shut the locker with a clamorous crash. Returning to the commons area, Jessica placed herself in the right bottom corner nearest the hall to her locker. She opened the notebook to the math section and began looking over the last notes she had made. Distracted by the different formulas, she didn’t notice that Stephanie had begun to collect her assortment of studies and make her way in Jessica’s direction. Plopping herself, as well as her armfuls of paper, onto the available space beside Jessica, she caused a small gust of air to blow the pages of her notebook into the English section. Jessica looked over to her new companion, trying not to show the annoyance on her face. Her tired eyes met with the bubbly blues of Stephanie. Her expression was one of bereavement hiding behind a veil intimacy. Stephanie directed a grief-stricken squeak toward her. Hi, Jessica!

A small sigh escaped Jessica’s lungs before she responded. Hey, Steph.

Of all the people who was going to want every juicy detail of what happened during the break-in, Jessica knew that Stephanie would be the first one to find her. Stephanie was the president of four different clubs at Liscum, including National Honor Society; Family, Career, Community Leaders of America; Future Business Leaders of America; and the drama club. With the addition of cocaptain of the debate team and president of the student council, Stephanie was astronomically obnoxious. She just gave off a certain aura of my opinion is better than yours, which can rub most people the wrong way, including Jessica.

How’s that boyfriend of yours?

He’s fine. Why do you care?

Stephanie’s squeal sundered scandalously. Her body leaned back obliquely, and her hand planted itself between her thickly concealed breasts. I was just wondering how he was doing, Jessica. No need to cut my arm off. Does he still go to the community college in Rollins?

She hated that question. Hated it because she knew that everyone else already knew the answer. They just wanted someone to criticize. Small-town folks love to criticize.

No. He’s back home with his parents. He works for his dad at the hardware store.

Jessica’s face was a thick black curtain, hiding her true feelings in shade until she was back in solitude. Then she would draw it back and let the emotions roll out onto her bedroom floor. She could sense Stephanie’s condescending glare