Love Letters (Soaked in Blood)

By Robert Trainor

Kendra Thomas is found lying in a pool of blood with a fatal gunshot wound to her head. It's difficult for Brad Anderson, the detective investigating the case, to determine whether Kendra committed suicide or was murdered. There's no sign of a forced entry, no signs of a struggle, no prints on the gun except Kendra's. But when the clues begin to point to murder, Brad finds himself with a bewildering array of suspects: Evan, the recently divorced husband; Cory, the guy who's been stalking her and sending her "love letters" for months; the mayor, who had threatened to silence Kendra because of an affair he had with her; Ryan, the twenty-three-year-old stepson, who has strong "feelings" for her; and Sheila, the nineteen-year-old binge-drinking daughter who had recently threatened to kill her.

Brad is an avid reader of murder mysteries, but he's in a little over his head on this case. He's read enough to know that there is only one real rule in murder mysteries: The most obvious suspect can never be the guilty person. It's all rather odd to him because in real life, the obvious suspect is almost always guilty. Unfortunately, Brad has five obvious suspects, and only one of them has an alibi. So which one is the murderer? If it was a murder mystery, the murderer would, of course, be the guy with the alibi, but in this tale of a secret obsession, we're dealing with someone who's leaving clues all over the place—the only problem is that Brad can't see them.

What follows is an excerpt from the first chapter.

Sitting down next to her, he reached over, grabbed her by her long, shoulder-length brown hair and twisted her face towards his. It would all begin with a kiss. "Don't," she said. "What are you doing?" As he struggled to put his lips on hers, she turned her face away and pushed him back with her hands. Pressing on, he grabbed her by the wrists, but she broke free and slapped him across the face. Shocked, he attempted to push her onto her back, but she slid to the side and pushed him off the couch and onto the rug. Reaching up, he put his hands on her ankles and dragged her down next to him, but she writhed away and crawled over to her handbag, which was lying on a table about ten feet away. He knew what was in that handbag; he knew what she was going for.
She had the handbag in her hands now and was reaching inside, but he was right there with her—no way was she getting that gun out of her handbag. Standing up, she lurched away from him, but as she drew the gun out of her handbag, he grabbed her arm. The look in her eyes! Fury.
It had all gone terribly wrong. He never expected that she would really resist—not after all the history they had together, not after the way she had fooled around with all those other men since the day that he had first met her.
"I'll kill you for this," she said.
He still wanted her, but he had to deal with the gun first. Disarm her and then do what he wanted. He never suspected that she would be so strong, but there was never any real doubt as to who would win this battle of strength, and in a few seconds, he had twisted her arm around so that the barrel of the gun was pointing at her head.
But she wasn't done resisting, and as she kicked him with her foot, she tried to twist the gun around so that it would be pointing at him. That was when the gun went off. During the time they had struggled over the gun, her finger had never left the trigger, and when she had tried to twist her arm, she had inadvertently pulled the trigger.
The bullet went right through her temple, and she fell like you would expect a person to fall when they've been shot in the head.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Trainor
• Release date: Feb 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223312918

Robert Trainor

Over the past twelve years (since I retired at the age of 59), I've written nineteen novels, four novellas, four non-fiction books, and seven anthologies, all of which you can find in the Kindle Store. Instead of writing a biography of myself, which seems rather irrelevant, I would prefer to write a biography of my books. Here, in the order in which they were written, is a brief sketch of the plots, themes, and subject matter of these books.1/ The Voice of the Victim describes a series of murders in a small city. I've always felt a great deal of empathy for the victims of violent crimes, especially those who are murdered by guns. What, I wondered, would these people say to us if they could speak? When reading this book, it is important to remember that my intention, from first page to last page, was to present the voice of the victim. And, to me, this voice is not a straight-line accusation of weapons and murderers but tends to veer to a pervasive mockery and total indictment of modern culture. This novel is much different than anything else I have written, and there will be many who will object to what the "voice" is saying.2/ Some Things Are Sweeter than God is somewhat along the lines of a classic murder mystery but is certainly not one of those books where the conclusion is some wild revelation that no sensible reader could ever discern beforehand. The protagonist is a forty-year-old woman lawyer who, in her role as a public defender, is required to represent a man who is accused of brutally murdering his ex-girlfriend.3/ The Road Map to the Universe is a well-constructed novel--at one time, I was a tournament chess player, and this book required a great deal of planning and analysis. Essentially, it's a highly unusual murder mystery, but the perceptive reader may be able to identify a standard plot theme lurking in the background. The Road Map also examines an interesting philosophical question: In a universe of four billion galaxies, what relevance, if any, does the human being have?4/ The Great Barrington Train Wreck, a truly offbeat social commentary, includes a unique type of murder mystery and is one of my favorite novels. Although I almost never include anything from my own life experience in my books, I was, just like the protagonist in the Train Wreck, homeless for many years. So I'm familiar with the lingo and attitude that some of the homeless have. This is a catchy, captivating book where the plot seems to materialize out of thin air until it becomes the elephant in the room. Also, to my mind, this tale could describe what happens to Holden Caulfield, the anti-hero of the Catcher in the Rye, as he approaches forty. It's not all peaches and cream! Especially when he falls in love with the daughter of a millionaire, and even more especially when he ends up on death row.5/ Your Kiss Is Like the Sweetest Fire describes a teenage romance between Jaime and Renee, who were adopted at a young age into the same family. It seems illogical to me, but in almost all states, the law views a sexual relationship between adopted siblings who live in the same family as a crime of incest--exactly as if they were related by blood. So Jaime and Renee have this difficulty to contend with, and also, their mother and father are both rather repulsive characters who are totally incapable of helping them. Wait until you meet Renee--I love her.6/ Requiem for the West is partially based on an apocalyptic poem that I wrote during the 1990's. Ten thousand hours is a lot of time to spend on a seven-hundred-word poem! Requiem is also an examination of some apparently abstract themes that seem highly relevant to me: 1/ The pervasive role of explicit sexuality in our culture and the very different ways that people react to it; 2/ The often farcical, Dilbert-like nature of the modern workplace, in this case a college; and 3/ Is doomsday just around the corner? The 1960-2000 version of myself considered a nuclear apocalypse to be inevitable, but nowadays, I'm ambivalent.7/ Frontier Justice was easy to write because once Adriana Jones arrived on page 10, she took over the book, and all I had to do was keep up with her as she overpowered every obstacle that crossed her path. I hadn't intended for that to happen, but that's the way life goes sometimes. Do I agree with, support, condone, or advocate Adriana's way of doing things? Difficult questions. Adriana is my creation, so I have to take some responsibility for her, I suppose, but I look at it this way: To be true to a character, one has to let the person speak and act in a way that is appropriate to his or her personality. I just can't legislate them into political correctness! Adriana didn't just overpower the other characters in Frontier Justice--she also overpowered me. I really like this book--I wish, as a writer, I could think of more characters who are as dynamic as Adriana.8/ A Tale from the Blackwater River is a novella that is meant to be a satire on a certain kind of story that is showing up far too frequently nowadays, but on another level, it's just kind of a humorous tale that was a lot of fun to write. This book is written in the first person by a forty-two-year-old woman named Alanda Streets. I almost published it under the pen name Alanda Streets because I thought some people might say that no woman would ever write a story like A Tale from the Blackwater River, but for those who feel that way, I hope you will ask yourself this question: If the name Alanda Streets had been on the cover of the book, instead of mine, would you have felt that a woman couldn't have written it?9/ The Blackwater Journal is another Alanda Streets novel--this time, she is only sixteen. I couldn't seem to get away from Alanda--she does have a spunky survivor's attitude towards life that appeals to me. In this book, she has to call on all her resources when her evil father imprisons her in a room and tells her that she has only a week left to live. As the days pass by, the terror mounts on her own personal death row. Does Alanda escape? Maybe so, maybe no.10/ Love Letters (Soaked in Blood) is another murder mystery that has a humorous undertone, which many will probably miss. The problem with writing a murder mystery is that anything that can be thought of has already been done about a thousand times. The only original idea left would be to have the most obvious suspect turn out to be the murderer. Think of it--that's probably never been done! And so...maybe you can guess the rest.11/ The Book of the Dead is about a man who goes to his 25th reunion and meets his high school sweetheart. The two of them embark on an impulsive twenty-four hour car ride that will take them through three southern states and bring them face-to-face with death. This is a tale where the boundaries of ordinary reality are stretched out a little bit! I'll leave it to you to decide whether The Book of the Dead is a fantasy or a reality.12/ Destroyed by Malice sees the return of a character who played a minor role in The Voice of the Victim. He's the world famous novelist Barker Drule, but unfortunately, he (and his wife) exit the book on page 1 when they are gunned down in their driveway. It isn't long before detective Jeff Willard is convinced that the murderer is a member of the Drule family. Perhaps it's Lenore, the older daughter, who was, years ago, secretly raped by her father; perhaps it's the beautiful Raylene, who wrote a novel about a rape victim that her father managed to have the publishing industry blackball; perhaps it's Ricky, the cocaine-addicted son who is desperate to get his hands on his father's money; and perhaps it's Dalton Drule, Barker's irascible eighty-two-year-old father who just happens to own the gun that was used to murder his son. In the end, when the truth finally comes out, there will be very few left to tell the tale.13/ How to Write an Imaginative Novel takes you through the whole process of writing a novel and then uploading it to Kindle. Among the many things covered are: Where will you find a plot? What is the best way to find names for your characters? How important is it to punctuate your book correctly? Is there a quick way to learn punctuation and sentence structure? What is the best way to write dialogue? What kind of things should one avoid in a novel? What is the significance of the first draft and why is it so important? How does one begin a book so that it immediately commands the reader's attention? How does one revise and edit a novel? Is it possible to create the cover for your book without spending any money? How does one convert a book to the correct format so that it can be uploaded to Kindle? And finally, how does one upload a book to Kindle?14/ I Ching 2015 contains a complete translation (minus the Confucian commentaries) of this ancient Chinese classic. Also included are detailed instructions on how to consult the I Ching using either yarrow stalks, coins, or dice. (For those who have been using coins, one should be aware that a significant error has crept into the method that many people use to cast an omen. This error, which involves using either three or four similar coins will seriously affect the accuracy of the omens you receive.) Additionally, there is extensive advice on how to interpret an omen. By using the correct method of interpretation, you will be surprised at how much clearer omens become. As part of this advice, I have posed a number of questions to the I Ching and have then interpreted the omen I received. Finally, for each hexagram, as well as many of the lines in each hexagram, I have included my own observations as to the essential meaning of these hexagrams and lines.15/ Blood and Blackmail is an elegant murder mystery with an unusual plot twist that took me some time to piece together. For those readers who enjoy the challenge of solving a crime before the final chapter arrives, this novel should provide you with a truly interesting puzzle. I doubt many people, if any, are going to see the underlying deception that runs throughout this tale because...if I say anything else, I might help the reader unravel this mystery, and I certainly wouldn't want to do that!16/ Fairy Tales by Martians takes a humorous look at the theory of evolution. Science, of course, claims that the human being originated from an amoeba that eventually became a tadpole that eventually became a frog and so on and so forth. However, I just can't conceive of the fact that ten million years ago, two frogs mated in a swamp and because of that event, I eventually arrived on the scene. What kind of a genealogy chart is that? Neither does the seven-day religious version of events appeal to me, so what I'm left with is a very cynical view of both the religious and scientific theories concerning the origins of our existence.17/ The Book of Dreams repeats a very old idea that has been used in many a novel. But here, in this murder mystery, the idea is taken to another level entirely and contains a twist that not many will see coming. The clues are there, starting with the poem in the Preface.18/ The Dark Side of the Moon is a tale about an attractive high school teacher who falls in love with one of her students. However, Carolyn Black is nervous that her sexual liaison with the student will ruin her career. Eventually, she tries to break off their relationship, but when he threatens to commit suicide, Carolyn is faced with an excruciating dilemma.19/ The Murder of Nora Winters was inspired by John Dickson Carr who wrote a number of locked-room mysteries. In this type of mystery, the murder victim is found in a room that does not allow the killer any means of exit. The doors and windows are all bolted from the inside, and it's considered very poor form for the author to create a room where there are sliding walls or secret panels. The solution to the murder of Nora Winters is, I think, relatively simple, but I've woven in enough deceit and misdirection to confuse all but the most astute readers.20/ The Vanishing Victim is a tale of a psychiatrist and a troubled woman who comes to him for counseling. What she reveals to him proves to be a confession to a brutal crime, but he is unable, because of the doctor/patient privilege, from revealing this crime to anyone, including the police. But even more troubling is that the woman's confession, although it contains a number of factual inaccuracies, turns out to have a terrifying reality of its own.21/ The Fatality Game follows a series of innocuous crimes in a rich neighborhood that seem to be more pranks than anything else. But when a woman is murdered in her bed, Detective Cody Barnes realizes that there is something evil lurking under the placid veneer of swanky mansions that are inhabited by millionaires. And when Cody becomes romantically involved with one of the earlier victims, the beautiful Lucinda Kane, the case begins to take on a life of its own that will eventually lead to the deaths of three more people.22/ How to Write an Intelligent Murder Mystery describes some of the adventures I encountered while I was writing murder mysteries (of my twenty-one novels, thirteen are murder mysteries.) This is a somewhat unusual instructional book that attempts to relate the problems encountered in the writing of a murder mystery to the more general problem of writing fiction in today's market where any new novel is almost instantaneously buried under an avalanche of new novels.23/ The Real Meaning of Life is definitely one of my favorite books. It's written in the first person by Patrick Devlan, a twenty-seven-year-old guy who writes murder mysteries. But his father, who is dying of pancreatic cancer, wants Patrick to write something that will take his readers to a "better place." Patrick decides to follow his father's advice, but a few days later, his roommate's pregnant girlfriend is murdered, and Patrick becomes entangled in a real-life murder mystery. Eventually, after his roommate is convicted of the crime and sent to death row, Patrick is faced with a dilemma that will lead him to the discovery of the real meaning of life.24/ Flight 9525 is a non-fiction book that attempts to answer the question as to why there is so much suffering in the world. For the most part, this book bypasses the usual political, psychological, and social reasons for suffering and examines the following: If God is real, then why do human beings suffer? Why would an all-merciful, all-loving, and all-powerful Being permit its creations to suffer? The usual explanations, such as the hypothesis that God granted man free will, don't answer the question at all. In fact, this is a question that's never been answered satisfactorily.25/ The Scriptwriter is the tale of a man who becomes entangled with three different women. There's the incredibly beautiful woman, the incredibly rich woman, and the incredibly homeless woman. Which one will he choose? Events, mishaps, and character flaws lead him to an interesting decision.26/ The Murder of Marabeth Waters contains a considerable amount of subtle black humor and describes the investigation that ensues after a prostitute is found strangled to death. Detective Devin Driver is quickly able to focus on a suspect; not only did this man send a threatening note to Marabeth, but also, her blood is found in his car. As it turns out, the real murderer lurks elsewhere, and unfortunately, Devin isn't a particularly perceptive detective, so it isn't surprising when the wrong person is convicted of the crime. However, even if Devin had been Sherlock Holmes on steroids, he undoubtedly wouldn't have solved this murder.27/ The Trial of Shada King--a district attorney in Hartford, Connecticut, is charged with manslaughter in the shooting death of the man who had raped her ten days before the shooting. Shada claims that she acted in self-defense, and since she was wearing a recording device at the time of the shooting, her claim of self-defense seems to be valid. But why was she wearing the recording device? The prosecuting attorney is convinced the crime scene was an elaborate stage production that was intended to deceive those who would be listening to the tape and that the victim was murdered in retaliation for the rape.28-34/ Finally, I have seven anthologies on Kindle that combine complete versions of many of the books listed above: Four Novels, 5 Novels, Four Murder Mysteries, The Blackwater Novels, Dark Tales, Six Novels, and Five Murder Mysteries. The purpose of the anthologies is that it gives the reader a chance to buy, for instance, five novels of mine at the rock-bottom price of $2.99.I spend a great deal of time revising my books. After finishing the first draft, I go through the book at least eight more times--first page to last page. Each journey through the book is slow and painstaking--no less than three hours and no more than thirty-five pages a day. From my experience, the kind of errors that pop up on some of the later readings can be rather surprising, if not downright alarming! I particularly look for inaccurate punctuation, lackluster sentence structure, and inaccurate or repetitive vocabulary. I also do not permit confusing sentences to stand--I can't imagine that any reader will want to read a sentence twice because I couldn't find a way to explain myself clearly.Finally, I would ask you all to keep an open mind about novels by an author who has no brand name. I am quite unusual because I do not advertise myself in any way, shape, or form (outside, I guess, of this little biography). My books are well-written, entertaining, and thought provoking, but they are often truly original, and I worry about the page-six syndrome. That's the point where some readers abandon a book by an unknown author because of a single sentence, idea, or attitude that seems amateurish to them. Have faith that there are some genuine diamonds in the Kindle arena and have faith that your instinct to buy one of my books was a good instinct. If you read any of my books to the finish, I think you'll feel that your time was not wasted because these novels are not cheap imitations--they are real creations.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE: LIGHTS OUT

She should never have let him in, but caution was never her strong suit. Kendra Thomas was one of those women who thought that she knew everything and could handle any situation. Obviously, it was wrong for him to be there at this time of night, but he’d become obsessed with her lately. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her—especially after he went to bed at night. One thought after another, one kiss after another, one lust after another. It had all started so innocently, but by now, he realized that his thoughts and desires were leading him down a dangerous path.  

He should never have allowed himself to be tempted. What was it about her? When you put it into words and faced facts, she wasn’t really all that beautiful. It was so mystifying. Usually, he only had sexual fantasies about teenagers or women in their early twenties, but Kendra was thirty-nine, and she had a lot of mileage on her. He knew most everything about her by now: Her dark-brown sensuous hair, her lips, the way she walked, her smile—all the little hints that he had never been able to ignore. Sometimes, it seemed like she was begging him to rip her clothes off. Amazing, considering who he was. 

Tonight, he’d had a little bit too much to drink when the urge came over him to pay her this bizarre social call. He figured that he could chat her up, and it might lead to something else. He was familiar with all her sexual habits, especially her tendency to push men away before she went to bed with them. He wondered if, deep down, she fantasized about him, but he was way out of her league in terms of...in terms of everything. Nowadays, he was the invisible man in her life, just another guy who wasn’t showing up on her sexual radar. 

Somewhat awkwardly, he sat across from her and tried to talk about himself and his current aspirations, but naturally, she switched the conversation to herself. But while she was going on and on about what she always went on and on about (I, me, mine), he began to plot out his moves. They weren’t very attractive or subtle moves, but he’d rehearsed them many times while he was lying in bed tossing and turning as he imagined what it would be like to force her to do what he wanted her to do.  

How would she feel then? It was so erotic, actually. Just to overpower her until she submitted. Because he was pretty sure that at a certain point, she’d stop resisting. As he sat there sizing up his prey, it didn’t bother him to play the waiting game as she droned on about her new apartment for a minute or two and then, inevitably, her incredibly stupid love life. She always returned to that—she could be talking about something as idiotic as the latest Presidential campaign or the endless tribulations of the stock market, and it was guaranteed that within a minute, she’d be discussing the latest catastrophe in her latest relationship. 

She was so obsessive that there were times when he wanted to laugh at her. The way her eyes would bulge out slightly; the way her hands would clench; the way she would start biting the skin around her fingernails. And it was all because another married man that she’d chased around for a couple of months hadn’t treated her with the respect that she thought she deserved. Why did it always have to be a married man? Not that he was one to talk, but still, it was a little ridiculous. With all the single guys trolling around, you’d think that she’d show a little common sense and not go for someone who was wrestling with another relationship. 

And then, when the married guys dumped her like they always did, she’d carry on and start weeping like God was some evil force who was out to sabotage her life. Try looking in the mirror, baby, because sometimes, you really do reap what you sow. Rich married men—that’s the only thing she ever went for, and the bizarre thing was that they didn’t have to be in disintegrating relationships because she actually seemed to be more attracted to guys who were happily married. Must be the thrill of the chase. It was only now, now that she was nearing forty, that she had set her sights a little lower and tended to go for guys who were at least talking about how they might be getting a divorce one of these days.  

Kendra...it was so easy to dislike her when she wasn’t in the same room with you, but as soon as she started talking, it was like she was a hypnotist who could make you forget every thought you’d ever had about her. Those eyes! So dark, so intense, so pleading. The way she would drag you into her problems, her warped view of life, and her endless fascination with sex. 

Hers was a kind of primitive but elegant sexuality. She never showed any skin—blouses down to her wrists, no skirts above her knees, nothing like that at all. Maybe, in summer, she’d wear a blouse where the sleeves only reached her elbows, but no matter what season it was, the blouse was either buttoned right up to her neck, or if she was feeling particularly risqué, she might leave one button unbuttoned. He could still remember the time when the top two buttons were unbuttoned—not that she was showing anything—and while he surreptitiously glanced off and on at the barest hint of skin, she casually buttoned the two buttons up as she rambled on about her latest fiasco with her latest man.   

And the things that she would say about her sexual escapades! He couldn’t believe that any woman would be so frank, especially with him. Talking about the way some guy’s hands had felt when they were stroking her breasts, the bizarre positions that she favored, the way that some things would always make her climax. There was one day when she even went through an imitation of herself as she had an orgasm. And Kendra could certainly do it all—the sighing, the panting, the sounds that she made when she crossed over to the other side. Why would he want to hear something like that? Oh, please—let me hear a rerun of your latest orgasm, and by the way, the top button on your blouse is unbuttoned.  

That’s the way she was tonight—buttoned up. He could tell that she was tired and didn’t really want to talk to him. But why should he leave? He’d endured more than enough grief and nonsense from her, and he just wanted to know what it would feel like, just wanted to know how she would be when she finally gave in. It wasn’t going to be hard—he was a lot stronger than her. But still, he felt strange as he got up from the chair he was sitting in and approached her as she sat on the couch. It was such an amazing line that he was about to cross. What if she fought back? Shouldn’t he at least try some kind of verbal introduction to what he was about to do? But that might not work because it would give her some time to react, and he knew how adept she was at talking her way out of things.  

So many things were going through his mind. What if, afterwards, she called it rape? That wouldn’t be very pleasant, that could ruin everything. So he had to be a little bit careful. Force her and force her until she gave in—that was the plan, and he knew it would work because she had told him one day that she liked to be forced and that it turned her on. So that meant that once he started, he couldn’t pull back because then, she might call it attempted rape. But if he had the courage to go through with it, then it would just be so erotic. This time, he was determined not to take no for an answer. And neither was he taking the sophisticated approach—she didn’t deserve it after all she had put him through. 

Sitting down next to her, he reached over, grabbed her by her long, shoulder-length brown hair and twisted her face towards his. It would all begin with a kiss. Don’t, she said.  What are you doing? As he struggled to put his lips on hers, she turned her face away and pushed him back with her hands. Pressing on, he grabbed her by the wrists, but she broke free and slapped him across the face. Slapped him hard. Shocked, he attempted to push her onto her back, but she slid to the side and pushed him off the couch and onto the rug. Reaching up, he put his hands on her ankles and dragged her down next to him, but she writhed away and crawled over to her handbag, which was lying on a table about ten feet away. He knew what was in that handbag; he knew what she was going for. He’d heard her talk about that more than once, and as he watched her moving across the room, it infuriated him that she would put him in that category. 

She had the handbag in her hands now and was reaching inside, but he was right there with her—no way was she getting that gun out of her handbag. Standing up, she lurched away from him, but as she drew the gun out of her handbag, he grabbed her arm. The look in her eyes! Fury.  

It had all gone terribly wrong. He never expected that she would really resist—not after all the history they had together, not after the way she had fooled around with all those other men since the day that he had first met her. Why couldn’t he have what he wanted? But it wasn’t working out that way. For a split second, the gun was actually pointed at his head, or at least close to his head, and if he hadn’t grabbed her arm and yanked it to the side, he might have taken a bullet to the brain. Long gone were the fears of being charged with rape—now he felt as if he was fighting for his life. 

I’ll kill you for this, she said.  

He still wanted her, but he had to deal with the gun first. Disarm her and then do what he wanted. He never suspected that she would be so strong—her arm, the arm that was holding the gun, felt like it was made out of steel. But there was never any real doubt as to who would win this battle of strength, and in a few seconds, he had twisted her arm around so that the barrel of the gun was pointing at her head.  

But she wasn’t done resisting, and as she kicked him with her foot, she tried to twist the gun around so that it would be pointing at him. That was when the gun went off. During the time they had struggled over the gun, her finger had never left the trigger, and when she had tried to twist her arm, she had inadvertently pulled the trigger. 

The bullet went right through her temple, and she fell like you would expect a person to fall when they’ve been shot in the head.   

CHAPTER TWO: NOT A VERY HAPPY MARRIAGE

On Saturday, March 1st, 2014, Kendra Thomas’s body was discovered by her former husband, Evan Thomas, who had been married to Kendra for eight years. The divorce papers had only been signed a month before she died, and Evan had gone to her apartment about eight-thirty in the morning to discuss some issues that concerned visitation rights for Lisa, their four-year-old daughter. Evan had been about to ring the buzzer when he saw that the front door to Kendra’s apartment was slightly open. That was odd because Kendra had always been a person who was concerned about her personal security. 

Evan called out Kendra’s name, and when there was no answer, he pushed open the door, walked down a short corridor, and turned into the TV room. As soon as he saw Kendra’s body, he used his cell phone to dial 911. Backing out of the room, he waited by the front door until the police arrived. 

Within thirty minutes, Kendra’s apartment was swarming with police and detectives. The lead detective for the Kendra Thomas case was Brad Anderson, who had worked for the Arlington New Jersey Police Department for the past twenty-two years. He was five-foot four, weighed slightly over two hundred pounds, and was well-liked within the department because of his easy-going attitude and friendly nature.  

Brad spent about two hours in Kendra’s apartment as he helped to process the scene. The most obvious piece of evidence was a gun, a Smith and Wesson 38, which was found next to Kendra’s body. (By noontime of the following day, Brad was able to determine that Kendra had purchased the gun in April 2013 from a licensed dealer in Philadelphia.)  

Also next to Kendra’s body were four pieces of paper, all of which appeared to be love letters that had been written to Kendra by someone named Cory. Two of the letters were heavily soaked in blood and mostly unreadable, but the other two were lying just outside of the pool of blood that was beside Kendra’s head.  

Dear Kendra, 

I am going crazy today—how many days has it been since we last held each other? How many days since I kissed you? How many days since we were together at the hotel in Philadelphia for the weekend? I never thought anything could be better than the first time, but how wrong I was. The feel of your body next to mine, the way you kissed me, the way you held back until the final second—I almost felt as though we were going to break the bed. How can I ever begin to tell you how much you mean to me? The way we clutched onto each other and rode each other and played with each other and tantalized each other until I experienced the sweetest moment of my life. 

Kendra, I have to find a way out of this life I’m living. I’ve had enough of the nagging and the constant insults, and I know how you feel about Evan. That’s why you and I met each other—we were desperate for someone to love us. And now that it’s happened, we shouldn’t wait any longer to leave our loveless marriages. We’ve talked about it so much, but now we have to do it. If we can’t trust each other, then who can we trust? It’s not even a leap of faith because that’s for people who aren’t sure of each other. 

Kendra, I’m as sure of you as I am of the sun. I would give my life for you, so how much