$52.50 Exposed

Kathy left a message on my voicemail asking to me to meet her for a walk. Our routine was to meet at the gate of her property around 3am, she would take the dogs for a walk, and I would join her.

That night I saw her opening the door with the dog’s leashes in hand. She stepped into the snow to give them space to relieve themselves.

As she stood in the snow with the dogs, she fidgeted with something in her pocket. I loudly whispered, “Kathy, I am here.”

She barely glanced in my direction and then quickly began to walk toward the side yard, and that was when I heard the gunshot. I froze, then realized I wasn’t shot and ran over to her.

Blood and brains splattered on the lawn. The dogs barked and ran toward the porch door. I followed them in shock and pushed the door open.

“Scott! Scott!” I yelled as the dogs yapped louder and louder. “Scott, call 911, Kathy’s been shot.”

I heard Scott upstairs moving quickly. He came down the stairs with a gun in his hand.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Outside, Kathy’s been shot.”

We both ran back outside. He ran to the left side of the house and I ran back towards Kathy.

“Over here!” I yelled.

Scott came around the corner. “Where? There is no one here.” He said, then he looked down and saw her. His son James stood in the doorway. Hank yelled, “Call 911.”

“Why?” he yelled back.

Scott answered, “Hurry, I think your mom’s been shot!”

James darted back into the house while Scott tried to pick Kathy up.

“Don’t move her.” I said.

He sat in the snow and placed his gun holding hand on her back, and screamed “Why?”

“Scott, you better go inside.” I said, adding “And put that gun in your hand away.”

“I don’t understand.” He mumbled.

I reached for his other hand to help him up. “Just go inside, the police will be here soon.”

He headed to the house and I reached into my pocket retrieving a folded envelope. I quickly tucked it into Kathy’s jacket pocket and walked to my car.

Kathy had given me the note just yesterday morning. She said, “If anything happens to me, give this note to Scott.”

I folded the sealed envelope with his name printed on it, and put it in my purse, after promising her that I would give it to him. All day at work yesterday I wondered what she wrote to him. I planned to put it in my desk but when she left the message, I put it in my pocket.

Now it’s 3:15 in the morning, our normal time to walk and privately talk. Talk about Jessica’s death. Talk about her own fears, and the reality of the situation she was in. Now, I was questioning why she ignored me and ran away to shoot herself in the head. Was she trying to implicate me? Or him? Or just be free of those thoughts in her own head? Tears began to soak my face, I could hear the sirens coming. I drove away.

If Scott or James tell the police I was there, they can question me later. I have nothing to hide. But right now, it’s best for Scott to handle this.

I drove home, tossed my clothes in the washer. The bottom of my scrubs had some blood and crusted snow on them. I stood in a hot shower and wished I had read that note before I tucked it in her pocket.

I had a feeling it mentioned her anger at him for his involvement with Jessica’s death. As his wife she couldn’t testify against him. She shared with me some of the entries in her diary. The entries which lead to her suspicion that he was cheating, and the details of the morning she found an earring in his car. She was devastated. She had wanted to confront him but when Jessica’s body was discovered, she questioned that it wasn’t just an affair he might be guilty of.

The night Jessica was killed, Scott told Kathy he was out hunting late. He came home at 4am showered and left again at 5:15. Kathy didn’t think much about it until she went to the garage that morning to put the trash out.

She discovered his bloody hunting knife in the trash. She assumed it was deer blood, closed the lid, and walked the trash to the curb.

Days later when Jessica’s body was discovered and rumors shared her throat had been slit, she instantly knew it was him. She ask Scott about the knife that she found. He demanded to know if she touched or moved it. The hair raised on the back of her neck as she asked him if he had anything to do with Jessica’s death. He admitted he knew some things but it was business and it was best she didn’t know.

Last summer during one of our walks, I tried to reassure her that he didn’t kill Jessica, but I didn’t know the truth. I wish I had read that letter. I regretted not making a copy of it. Would Scott find it? Would the police? I quickly dressed; and then the doorbell rang. It had been barely six hours since Kathy fell into the snow, and the police were now at my door.

I explained our 3am meetings, and her nervousness that he was having an affair. They asked me if I knew who the woman was. I said no. How could I mention Jessica; or Kathy’s suspicion about her, she was dead. I told them she wanted to meet me to talk about a letter she wrote to Scott. “Kathy wanted me to read it, but I never did. We never spoke because she shot herself. I didn’t see her do it, but I heard it.”

The officer asked why I didn’t stay until they arrived. I said, “I felt it was more important for Scott to report her dead than for me to explain in front of him what I was doing there. I knew you’d find me to ask me questions. I have nothing to hide, except to protect Kathy’s secret suspicion of her husband’s infidelities.”

The police seemed okay with my explanation. After they left, the mailman arrived. I walked to my mailbox at the end of the driveway and noticed a large padded envelope. I could feel it was a small book. There was no return address, and it was addressed to me.

In my kitchen, I opened it and immediately a lump formed in my throat when I held the 5x7 black covered book. Written in a silver Sharpie was “Kathy & Scott’s Story” in block letters, with a hand drawn knife dripping with blood under the words.

I began reading it; sinking into the cushions on my couch. I read Kathy’s handwritten story. It shared so much of what she had told me. My eyes became blurry with tears. She planned this. She killed herself, and now she was trusting me with her words.

The first line said it all, “My husband killed Jessica, and I know this because I saw the knife, I saw the money, and when I asked him what happened to her, he told me to never ask again or I’d be next to her.”

I wanted to close the book because her truth was there in black and white. She had written at the bottom of that page a starred footnote. “By the last page of this book, I will be with her, but not because he put me there, but because I chose to join her. Because if cannot testify against my husband alive, then I will take it to the highest court and wait for him there.”

My cell phone chimed alerting me of a text. I glanced at my phone, it was from Kathy. I closed the book needing to digest the reality that she took a bullet and couldn’t be texting me. It was Scott texting from Kathy’s phone. “I know you have her book, she wrote me a letter and told me. I want it back.”

My phone began to ring, the screen read “a call from Kathy.” I tapped a button on the phone and shut off the ringer. An hour later, Scott was at my door. I had left it open with the storm door unlocked. He opened it and threw a newspaper inside. The paper was engulfed in flames. I quickly grabbed my fire extinguisher and saw his car speed away.

White foam put the fire out which thankfully only left a small burn mark on the foyer carpet. I reached for my phone to call the police, but my phone was vibrating. Kathy’s phone was calling again.

“Hello?”

It was Scott. He said, “That was a warning, my partner found the letter under Kathy’s body and gave it to me.”

I wondered if his partner read it. Scott was on the force but was on medical leave. He had shoulder surgery two months ago. Kathy told me he planned to milk his recovery. He was hoping for a disability discharge.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” I told him.

“Listen, I am not stupid. Bring the book to the rock at the cul-de-sac at 4:30pm tomorrow. My partner will be there and give you an envelope with twenty grand.”

I knew that rock, I had parked my car next to it many times at that suburban neighborhood cul-de-sac to walk with Kathy. Tonight, I wasn’t going for a walk with her. I grabbed the 11x14 Manilla envelop and opened my car door

I leaned my hips into the side of the boulder and waited. Checking my watch, it was 4:28. The silence of the snow on the trees gave me a moment of peace but looking at her house across the way quickly took that moment away. Sunlight glistened on the icy snow and I couldn’t shake my imagination from seeing her blood splattered over this same snow. Kathy’s brother told me he sprayed that snow with a hose until the red washed away; now all that remains is the messy footprints left behind.

I hear a car turn onto the street. It’s a cruiser. I check my watch, its 4:32. I look at the cop, and place the envelope on the rock. I step closer to the street with the rock behind me. He drives closer to me, reaches his hand out the window, and hands me an envelope. I remain standing next to the rock. I open the envelope, and see the cash. The officer says, “Hey, don’t worry. I told Scott you didn’t have it and now that I do, it will find its way to the right place. Kathy deserves that.”

I nodded and walked back to my car. In my rearview mirror I watch him retrieving the journal. I drive away and smile to myself as I place the envelop of cash on the brown Office Depot bag which contains a copy of every page of that journal. $56.50 was the expense I had to pay to keep Kathy’s words, and now I have profited $19,943.50 to expose the truth about Scott because I know his partner is just as dirty as him.

The END.