Authors: C.J. Johnson
Nicole's voice faltered and Mike leaned closer. "Then what did she say?"
"She said that neither of us were heavy drinkers or smokers, but that she would think of something."
Nicole's voice had been quivering throughout the whole story. At this point however, she broke down and began to weep. James moved to her side and put his arm around her. He looked at Mike. "She threatened to kill us, detective. We were in shock. She went upstairs and packed then came back down. I told her she wasn't leaving and that I was calling the police. That's when she said she'd claim to be having an affair with me and set Nicole and I up."
Mike let out a breath, his head reeling from all the information.
Cheryl was very clever.
Although he doubted any arrests would have been made, Mike knew her story would have been good. What had the woman across the street told him? Her name eluded him but he remembered the red door.
She'd said Cheryl had mentioned numerous times that she wouldn't be sleeping in the bedroom with Dave that night and that she intended to sleep on the couch.
That would add weight to Cheryl's story as would James's complaint about Mike's accusations about Cheryl.
Protecting his lover, they could say about James.
"Get her, detective," Nicole murmured. She looked at Mike with guilt-ridden eyes. "Get her. We'll make a statement, testify if we have to. Whatever it takes. Just get her before she does it again."
Mike was cast back to the moment in Dave Turner's soot covered bedroom. He remembered staring at the burnt carcass curled on its side, the arms covering the head in a feeble attempt to protect flesh from the burning flames.
He remembered his promise then, his promise to see that justice was done.
"I will do what I can," he told the Harrison's.
Cheryl was smart and had already gotten away with murder. Mike feared another man would die before she slipped up and made a mistake.
Chapter Twenty Two
Cheryl trembled in rage and hatred, the drive home from the restaurant a blur of traffic lights and honking horns.
Tears of shame and anger slid down her cheeks and she shook her head, angry with herself as well as her family.
She had known this would happen. The moment she arrived at the restaurant and reached the table, the table where her father and sister glared at her while her mother kept her head down, she had known it was going to go really badly.
Her sister Tess had a smug look in her eyes. Her father looked at her as if she were the most unpleasant thing he'd ever had the misfortune to set his eyes on. Her mother, uncomfortable in any kind of situation, fiddled nervously with her napkin.
None of them greeted her as she sat down. "Happy birthday, mum," she said. That was all she managed to say before her father started on her.
He spoke to her as if she were a stupid rebellious 14 year old. He spoke of shame on the family, how her affairs were the juicy gossip in his office. He blamed her for the increase in her mother's depression and anxiety medication and her refusal to attend any social gatherings since their daughter's affair had been made public.
He topped his speech by saying that Tess couldn't even pick her son up from school without someone commenting on her big sister's reputation.
He topped off his speech by adding that Harold had been to see him to discuss Cheryl, that he felt at the end of his tether with her and didn't know what to do since he didn't believe in divorce.
That was the first bomb for Cheryl; Harold had visited her father over her affair
six weeks earlier.
She hadn't even met his friend's son then. It seemed that Harold had known about her for sometime, but had decided to stay with her. When her affair with his friend's son had come out, it seemed that, for Harold, that was the last straw. The second bomb was her father's next words.
"I advised him to leave you," Cheryl's father said icily. "No man should have to put up with his wife's affairs being thrown up in his face."
Cheryl kept her eyes on her napkin in front of her, her blood boiling in anger. She concentrated on blanking his words out, refusing to let him see how his words were hurting her.
Tess lowered her head as Cheryl glanced at her, twisting her features into embarrassment, but Cheryl knew better. Tess was secretly delighted and enjoying every second of this.
Cheryl felt sorry for her mother though. She looked as though she may faint dead away at any moment. Her face was so pale she looked grey as she repeatedly twisted the napkin in her hand.
Still, Cheryl managed to remain calm, in spite of heads turning at nearby tables, openly listening to her father's words.
He finished his speech by telling Cheryl when Harold left her for her many past affairs and her inability to remain faithful, she would not be welcome at their home.
She would be on her own.
Even then, Cheryl said nothing and took it all in.
As much as she hated her father and Tess, she refused to hurt her mother anymore. Then the waiter arrived.
Young and very attractive, he'd gazed at Cheryl with a bright fire of lust in his eyes. Just the thought of his eager hands on her body, his mouth on hers as he thrust into her had made her inner thighs tingle.
She'd smiled, thanked him for her wine and was watching him walk away, smiling when he turned to look back at her, when Tess opened her mouth and ruined the whole evening.
Cheryl had managed to control her temper while her father had spoken to her as if she were nothing but a 10pence slut, but Tess's comment immediately enraged her.
"Jesus Cheryl," Tess had said, "you're like a mongrel bitch in heat."
Not even trying to control the rage that brought immediate colour to her cheeks, Cheryl hurled her full glass of wine into Tess's face.
She stood and smiled as Tess gasped and gaped at Cheryl in shock. Her mother lowered her head, muttering "Oh dear, oh dear," over and over again. Her father sat back and stared at Cheryl, completely aghast at her actions. Cheryl smiled between Tess and her father, before focusing her eyes on her father. "Did it ever occur to you,
dad
, that maybe I seek out men and their affections because you were never there for me? Not that it matters a whole lot now but I'd like you to know that the reason I'm such a fuck up is because of you. I'm not to blame, you are."
Her father stared back and Cheryl temporarily hesitated.
Her father looked more than just stunned, he looked hurt. Her words had affected him like a slap in the face.
Cheryl looked at her mother, who was now weeping into her napkin. "I'm sorry mum. Happy birthday." Then, and without a backward glance, she turned and left the restaurant.
The tears didn't come until she was driving home.
I'm losing it. I'm losing it.
She just couldn't believe how quickly her perfect life had fallen apart.
What did I do to deserve this?
Cheryl cried all the way home, relief washing through her when she spotted her home, a place where she could hide from hurtful words and accusing eyes. She pulled up into the driveway and hit the button to raise the garage door.
Her nerves tightened as she drove slowly into the garage, shut down the engine and all but ran to the doorway that led into the kitchen. She hated the garage, she always had, but it had become worse since the bulb had blown in there.
She always imagined someone waiting for her as she got out of her car, a knife in his hand as he grabbed a handful of her hair. She pictured her face on the news, the unfortunate victim of a madman.
I watch too many scary movies,
she told herself, calm now as she shut and locked the door that connected the house to the garage.
As she did every night, Cheryl poured herself a glass of red wine and went into the living room. She had a terrible headache and an empty stomach. Cheryl sighed and glanced at the clock. 8.30 PM.
In spite of how bad she felt, she let out a wry smile and short laugh. Didn't even last half an hour in the restaurant. Must be a new record.
She pictured her mother's tears and felt bad that she'd had to witness it. But it was Tess's fault. If the bitch had just kept her mouth shut, none of it would've happened. She pictured her father's face, then felt a little better.
What do you know,
she thought nastily,
the cold-hearted bastard did have feelings after all.
Feeling better just knowing her words had hurt her father, Cheryl leaned forward, grabbed the remote control and flicked the TV on. She searched through the movie channels and found one starting in an hour.
I'll call out for pizza and chill out with a film.
Nodding her head as she agreed with herself, she raised her glass and drank all the wine in one go.
I should just get sloshed tonight, call in sick tomorrow.
Cheryl nodded again and muttered "fuck them. Fuck them all."
Cheryl watched the TV for about five minutes, not really seeing what was on the screen as she considered her options should Harold ask her for a divorce. It wouldn't be all bad and she'd inherit something at least. Still, she didn't relish the notion of being alone again.
She enjoyed the flings that she had, she enjoyed the feeling she got from seducing a younger inexperienced man, but it was all the more enjoyable when she had a husband to go home to.
It wouldn't be the same, returning to an empty house alone.
Cheryl wasn't stupid and she knew there was a difference between lust and love. The men she seduced lusted for her, thought of her as the best sex they'd ever had; but that was it. Having Harold's love and devotion, having him worship the ground she walked on, seeing the way he gazed at her, as if she were the only woman in the world, that was the best feeling ever and couldn't replace the temporary high of a meaningless seduction.
Cheryl leaned forward to rest the TV remote on the coffee table, intending to head into the kitchen for the pizza delivery number which was tacked on the wall, when her vision began to darken.
She leaned back in her chair as a wave of lethargy sapped every last ounce of energy from her body. Her eyelids drooped. She had time to wonder why she suddenly felt so tired when the drug applied to her bottle of red wine took hold of her completely and she slept.
Cheryl continued to sleep as the figure stepped out of the dining room where he'd been hiding and slipped into the kitchen.
He replaced the drugged bottle of wine with an identical opened one with the exact same amount of alcohol inside. He retrieved the glass Cheryl had drank from and washed it out before placing it back beside her.
She was back early, but he had prepared for this since her relationship with her family was so strained. The pills he had given her for would keep her out for hours, so he was not worried.
He settled on the chair across from her and watched as she slept. He had to admit, she was a beautiful woman. He had thought so the first time he'd seen her, just like every other man. But watching her now, he was able to see through her beauty to what lay beneath. She was evil.
He stared at her and thought of what she had done to him, how she had ruined his life. A rage so intense, so overwhelming and so strong gripped him and he was forced to go into the kitchen and take a seat at the table for fear that he would strangle her there and then with his bare hands.
I did not come this far to blow it now.
The punishment he had in mind for her was severe, far harder than an easy death of strangulation whilst she slept. He was sure his plan would work.
He believed in Fate, in Karma. What he didn't understand was why it was taking so long to catch up to her. He was a good man and had lived a good life, in spite of what Cheryl had done to him, yet the fierce hatred burned within him deep down. It burned so fiercely that one day, he had decided to do something about it.
He wondered whether he would unbalance Karma by intervening, but he decided that he wasn't. Besides, he had waited long enough for his revenge.
It was time, whether Karma was ready or not.
He checked his watch and decided that it was a little early, but he knew their routine well enough to know that they were probably home by now. Unease gripped him as he stood, unease and doubt so strong that he lowered himself back into the chair.
I knew I had to do this
, he told himself,
I knew it.
But knowing it weeks ago didn't help when the task lay immediately ahead of him. His plan to take Cheryl down was clever, he knew that, but the only problem was that people would have to get hurt. In an ideal world, Cheryl would be the only one hurt, but his plan wouldn't work that way.
If I don't do this,
he thought,
then I may as well give up now.
He did ponder that possibility for a minute.
Cheryl's husband was onto her and would probably leave her very soon. Maybe he could just sit back and watch Cheryl lose her comfortable life and lapdog husband.
He shook his head. That just wasn't good enough. He knew Cheryl would feel the blow to her ego if her husband left her, and he knew she would be devastated with everyone knowing that he'd left her.
Cheryl thought very highly of herself.
But, that wasn't enough. Cheryl was resilient. Okay, she'd feel the blow of a divorce, but she would move on. Like the leopard that misses out on the deer as it makes its escape from her claws, she sets out to find another to hunt. And that is what Cheryl would do. There were many Harold's around. She wouldn't be alone for long.
Nodding, knowing that he had no choice in this matter if he wanted to see Cheryl get exactly what she deserved, he stood and left the kitchen, making his way back into the dining room. He retrieved his bag that he brought with him, the items inside detrimental to his plan, and cast one more look at Cheryl. He smiled.
If all went to plan, she would only have two days of her life left. No longer hindered by the thought of having to hurt people in order to take her down, he snatched her car keys of the breakfast bar in the kitchen, placed the drugged bottle of red wine into his bag and headed to the garage.