An Affair to Remember

- Title Page

- Chapter 1

- Chapter 2

- Chapter 3

An Affair

To

Remember

by

Norma Budden

Norma Budden

Copyright 2011 by Norma Budden

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved by Norma Budden unless otherwise agreed upon by an instrument in writing.

This is a work of fiction; the characters and storyline contained within are a figment of the author’s imagination. Any names which bear any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidental as well as any likeness to true events which have transpired. Any actual locations are used fictitiously.

Smashwords License Statement

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Design by Marshall Dotson

http://wordsworthjenkins.blogspot.com/

Technical Advisor: Bart Ringer

1Dedication

Have you been forced to give up

someone you loved

so deeply because the circumstances

were not right at the time?

If so, I empathize;

while writing this book,

you were on my mind.

Acknowledgments

First, I must thank God for granting me the continual gift of having a story to tell, a poem to write or a song to sing. I enjoy every session I spend with the written word and marvel at the stories which come to light.

I must thank Bart Ringer - an adrenaline junkie retired police officer from Riverton, Wyoming, USA. He has become a useful friend to have in my corner of the world when it comes to reviewing stories like these.

Bart has provided me with a little knowledge in terms of law enforcement protocol and procedures; he went through the rough draft of my book, suggesting changes I could make. As I finished reworking each of the areas needing improvement, I’d send them back to get his green light of approval.

He went over and above what I had asked and I thank him from the bottom of my heart. I also appreciate his wife, Marian, for granting him the numerous hours it took to accomplish the task I had assigned to him.

I would like to thank Marshall Dotson for creating the cover design. Apparently, I can use this cover unless sales for print versions of the book exceed the 500,000 mark, due to licensing agreements set forth by Dreamstime.com.

Shayne Courtorielle is a member of Canada’s Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Though he didn’t play any specific role in getting my book prepared for publication, he did encourage me to finish writing it. I mention Shayne here because he represents what I feel every member of any police force should be: loyal to his family, personable to the people around him but firm enough in his convictions to get the job done.

I must thank my children (especially Kelsey) for the extra things they do around the house when I’m working towards reaching a deadline. It teaches responsibility, not to mention patience but, when all is said and done, they marvel at the fact that Mom published another article/book.

I can’t put into words how much I appreciate friends who encourage me through each step of the writing process. There are too many to name and none are more important that the other. Quite simply, thank you!

Chapter 1

Monica Townsend sat at the edge of the bed sobbing uncontrollably for what could, and should, have been. For too many years she had tried to live her life to please others but the time had come when she could do it no longer; something had to give and it had to give soon.

Rising to her feet and groping about in the darkness, she made her way to the washroom and ran a cool stream of water over her face. She knew she had to get a grip but it was becoming more difficult with each passing day. Wondering how much longer she could survive, she climbed into bed and tried her best to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~

Chase Travers was struggling. It didn’t matter what he did; the pending reality that he might end up in a wheelchair was becoming something he feared more with each passing day.

He knew he had to make changes in his life. He had to lose the few extra pounds he carried around his middle. He also needed to get away from the environment he was in - an environment which ate him away a little more as the hours continued to pass, as one day rolled into another.

Thinking back and regretting so many of the decisions he had made over the course of his life, Chase placed his head in his hands and wept for what could, and should, have been.

8 years earlier

Monica always knew she wanted to be a writer. From an early age, she would sit at the computer and create characters which would come alive inside her soul. She spent hours with them and, in some ways, they became her reality.

As the years passed, having had more acquaintances than friends, Monica tended to spend most of her time at home when not in school or working after school. Her love for writing increased with each passing year and the television soon became a thing of the past as words took over her life.

As she began to learn more about the world around her, Monica began to internalize her feelings and later wrote those feelings into poetic form, inspiring people around her more than she could have ever dreamed.

If only I can do the same with my stories, I will be really happy, Monica thought. I just want to reach out to people through the written word and help them get a break from the lives they lead for a little while.

Sadly, despite Monica’s hopes and dreams, something would happen which would alter the course of her life forever.

~~~~~~~~

Chase knew what it was like to help others. Being a police officer, he saw more than his share of stressful, heart-wrenching moments but he also witnessed the rewards - moments when a child was returned to his parents or a pet was rescued from a house fire and placed into a teary-eyed child’s arms.

Yes, being a cop was difficult and wreaked havoc with his body’s internal clock, not to mention the strain it placed on his family. However, being a cop was not a job for Chase; it was his identity. It became him and he had never looked back.

However, Chase was about to encounter someone he had never dreamed existed and it would change his convictions, and his life, forever.

~~~~~~~~

Monica’s love for words had become such a part of her that she couldn’t imagine being away from them for long periods each day. Knowing she would only write creatively for a certain number of hours each day, she decided to live on the words and stories others created, editing their stories for, at least, five to six hours a day.

Over time, she had developed a reputation which had allowed her to, finally, make the break and rent a space outside of her home where she could work. Unlike most people who thrived on working from home, Monica had no small children to tend to, nor did she have a husband to care for each day. She truly wanted to make the two facets of her life totally separate - her home and her work.

On the fateful day in question, Monica headed through the door of her office to return home. She had gotten carried away and spent more time at the office than she had intended - a hazard of the job. She was about to remove the keys from her pocket to lock her office door when a hand from behind came across her mouth and nose. She felt the impression of a gun in her left temple.

“Don’t try anything stupid, lady. I don’t want you dead!”

Monica struggled to get a coherent thought but her senses were fading quickly and her legs were growing limp. Her eyes closed, her head slumped and the man quickly lifted her in his arms then carried her to a dark coloured sedan. Placing her in the backseat, he mumbled a few words to someone then proceeded to open the front passenger door before slipping quietly inside.

~~~~~~~~

A man was peeking through the curtain across the seat and saw the whole thing go down. Swearing beneath his breath and clenching his hands into fists, he retrieved his weapon and slipped through the door to follow a safe distance behind.

~~~~~~~~

Monica awakened to a severe pounding in her head, seconds before hearing the sound of gunfire. Upon trying to move, she felt the ropes pulling into her wrists and ankles. Placing her tied wrists behind her head, she pressed her forearms as tightly as she could to cover her ears, desperate to block the sounds coming from the other room.

It was useless; the sound resonated throughout the room and she could almost feel the vibration as the bullets bounced off concrete walls. Feeling for certain she was about to die and wondering what had landed her in this nightmare, Monica curled up into a ball as tears blinded her vision, praying for deafness to assail her.

~~~~~~~~

Chase had prepared himself for the possibility of finishing a shift without any major issues arising. Two more hours and he could go home to his family and get a few hours of sleep before starting his next shift.

Unfortunately, no sooner had he thought of returning home when he was summoned to an abandoned warehouse from which gunfire had been coming for about two to three minutes.

Chase donned his jacket and cap and headed out with his partner, Frank.

“Are you familiar with that warehouse, Frank? Do you know the layout and what might be located around the property? I haven’t been out that way since I was a kid.”

“Well, it’s located in a bit of a valley. There’s a steep slope just behind it but the whole area is practically abandoned.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve been inside,” Chase asked as he pressed the gas pedal a little closer to the floor. “I really hate going into these places blind. I hope the place is not falling apart. If so, gunfire could do some serious damage.”

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck there; I don’t recall ever being inside,” Frank replied as he looked in his rear view mirror to see an ambulance approaching from a distance behind.

Chase slammed his fist on the steering wheel and grimaced. “You know the area best. What do you propose we do when we approach?”

Frank thought for a few moments. “Let’s go in quietly and dark and see what we have on our hands. Just remember, in the worst case scenario, I got your back.”

“May God be with us,” Chase said before they got out of the squad car. He had said the same thing since his career with law enforcement began and would say it until he drew his last breath.

Approaching quietly with weapons raised, their senses were on high alert at the eerie sound of silence. Looking into each other’s eyes, conveying messages only a cop understood, Chase leaned into the door and called, “Police! Open up!”

Not a sound or whimper was heard. Fearing an ambush, Frank looked behind just as the other squad cars had begun to pile in, lights aglow but sirens having been turned off.

There was no response to Chase’s call. He busted his way through the door which had held up better than he had expected, since the interior of the building had definitely seen better days. Dim lights had been left on and Chase saw three dead men on the floor; the look on their faces seemed to register surprise and Chase fought the urge to close their eyes.

What a mess! Chase thought as he tried to keep his insides from churning. What happened here? Is someone still lurking in the silence? We had better watch out in case this is an ambush.

He and Frank continued to explore every crevice of the abandoned warehouse while the other units were exploring the perimeter. The other officers continued to call that all was clear.

Chase was about to do the same when he heard a moan which increased in intensity. Still, he couldn’t see anything and was baffled as to where the sound was coming from. It seemed to be everywhere, yet nowhere, and for a moment he wondered whether the building was haunted.

“What’s that awful noise?” Frank asked as he cautiously approached.

“I don’t know, man. I can’t find the source,” Chase said as he began to sweat bullets as the memory of another time and place filled his senses.

“It’s coming from over there,” Frank said as he began to walk in the direction of what appeared, on closer inspection, to be a room created to blend into the scenery.

Chase always tried to protect Frank to the best of his ability and this would be no exception. “Here. Let me!” he ordered as Frank, once again, stepped aside.

"Lord, please protect us," Chase said just before opening the door to see a woman bound at the hands and feet, writhing in agony from a head wound - a wound which had caused a little too much blood loss for his comfort.

Chapter 2

Chase approached carefully, searching the room with his eyes to be sure there was nowhere for an assailant to hide. After asking Frank to fetch the ambulance, he knelt on one knee beside the woman, ripping his shirt sleeve to help slow the blood coming from her head.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Monica,” she replied faintly. “Monica Townsend.” She closed her eyes.

“Monica, my name is Chase Travers. I’m a police officer and I’m here to help you. I’m glad you remember your name; that’s a good sign. Do you remember what happened? You don’t have to say anything, just squeeze my hand if you remember.”

She squeezed his hand before closing her eyes again.

“Stay with me, Monica. An ambulance is just outside. I’ll stay right here until it arrives.”

“It’s OK,” Monica began to cry. “I was leaving work to come home and a man put his hand over my mouth and nose, asking me not to do anything foolish because he didn’t want me dead,” she said slowly, but deliberately. “Suddenly, I felt very weak and couldn’t even hold my weight. The next thing I remember is waking to this pounding in my head seconds before hearing the sound of gunfire. It was everywhere, coming from inside and out. It was worse when I realized I couldn’t run or hide.” She began to cry harder, as she pointed to the ropes tying her wrist and ankles.

“Do you have any idea who may have wanted to harm you?” he asked as he adjusted his position and looked into her eyes, while continuing to hold the soaked shirt sleeve to her temple.

“No. I’m just a writer and book editor. I live a clean life. I don’t have enemies,” she replied softly while looking into his eyes.

“Have you rejected anyone’s manuscript lately?”

“No. Even if I did, I can’t imagine anyone kidnapping me because of it. Can you imagine the headlines?” she answered with a hint of a smile.

Chase smiled at her innocence, wishing his impression of the human race was as untainted.

“It sounds as though the paramedics are here. I’ll leave you in their hands and will catch up with you at the hospital.”

“Good. Thanks for helping me. I’m sorry I ruined your shirt.”

“That’s OK. There are lots where this came from. I’ll see you soon,” he said while backing out of the room.

~~~~~~~~

The man hated leaving her there but it wasn’t as though he had a choice. Though he knew her comings and goings intimately, she didn’t know him. She had not seen him in many years; she had probably forgotten he existed.

She would be OK, he was sure of it. He heard the wailing sirens even as he had fled. All would be well; they wouldn’t get that close to her again. His only mission in life was to protect her, whatever the personal cost.

~~~~~~~~

Monica felt as though her head would explode every time the ambulance made a turn. If she hadn’t been strapped to the stretcher and didn’t have an IV running into her veins, she would probably have taken a chance at bolting.

Realistically, she knew that wouldn’t be the answer and could get her in a lot of trouble; she didn’t need that at all. It was bad enough that, no matter how much she tried, she could not figure out who would do such a thing to her. As she had told the cop, she didn’t have enemies...but the fact remained that someone had done this and she wouldn’t rest until she got the answers she was seeking.

~~~~~~~~

Chase was disturbed. He looked around the outside of the warehouse and saw only three large sets of footprints embedded in the mud. Considering three men had been dead in the warehouse, it’s safe to say Monica had been carried inside by one of those three men, likely the one whose impressions in the ground went a little deeper. It added up to her account of being passed out, Chase mused.

If someone had stumbled upon the warehouse shooting, called it in and taken cover somewhere, that person would have been around to give a statement when realizing there was no longer any danger. As it is, there’s no one and no one has come forward.

But where did the killer come from and how could the attack have taken place, killing three men within a matter of minutes, without the benefit of sight? Even if the killer had been inside, how the heck did he get in and how did he manage to get out without leaving as much as a single footprint?

Was the killer a witness to Monica’s abduction and, if so, what’s the connection between them? It had to be personal; it had to be someone Monica knew.

Chase rubbed his eyebrows trying to picture Monica involved with a killer and it just didn’t add up. No matter which way his musings led him, he came back to the same conclusion: Monica Townsend could not possibly be associated with these murders.

Deciding to head to the initial crime scene, Monica’s office, Chase crossed the yellow police tape and took a look inside. Nothing was amiss and it was obvious Monica liked to keep a clean desk.

Glancing through her address book, he saw not only names of her contacts but their occupations, contact information and street addresses. There were quite a few names but nothing raised a red flag. Even so, he flipped the pages with the tip of his pencil and took photos of every entry in case he might need the information later.

He looked at the photo on the wall and, judging by the similarity in appearance, he presumed it was a photo of Monica posing with her mother then began to wonder about her father.

He played through the few messages on her answering machine and everything pertained to one writing project or another, though her mother did call asking her to pick up a carton of milk.

Taking one last glance around the office, he closed the door behind him and decided it was time to check in with Monica.

~~~~~~~~

Monica had closed her eyes, feigning drowsiness so people would leave her alone to think. She had enough of the poking and prodding and, though frustrated, she was placed under protective custody for the time being and would be spending at least a couple of nights in the hospital for further observation.

If only I could go back to the life I had this morning, she thought. I can’t tolerate the scrutiny. I can tell the cops don’t know what to believe. I wish I could get a few answers from someone. I just wish someone would believe me when I tell them I don’t know what’s going on.

She heard a light tap on the door and cringed, until it opened and she saw Chase. “I had nearly given up on seeing you again this evening. I figured you would be busy trying to catch criminals,” she said while looking directly into his eyes.

“I have been. I do need to ask you a few questions, though,” he responded as he closed the door and began walking toward the bed.

She threw her head back in despair. “Not you, too!”

“Whoa! What do mean?”

“Are you coming in here to grill me about whether I’m involved in my own abduction and the murder of three men?”

“You told me you led a clean life, remember? Why would I grill you?”

“Then why are you really here?”

Chase looked directly into her eyes. “First, I wanted to see how you were doing. Next, I wanted to ask about your upbringing. I wanted you to tell me the story of your life so far. I know you’re a reputable editor but why did you decide to write and edit for a living? Do you have siblings? On your office wall, there’s a photo of you with a woman. Is that woman your mother? If so, where is your father?”

“Why are you asking all these personal questions?” Monica asked pointedly.

“I’m trying to find who did this to you. I want to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

“They can’t hurt me; they’re dead, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. Quite the coincidence, isn’t it, considering that, until tonight, that warehouse had been abandoned for over ten years? It’s out of the way, too, in an area where people rarely go. Enlighten me, OK? I’m not the bad guy here; I’m trying to help.”

“Wait a minute! If the warehouse is in such an abandoned location, how did you know there was gunfire?”

“Someone called it in.”

“Who?”

“That remains a mystery.”

“Do you think it was the killer?”

“I’m leaning in that direction.”

“Do you have any idea who the killer is?”

“No, but I think someone saw what happened and came to your rescue.”

“I don’t know any killers.”

“But someone wanted to protect you.”

“Chase, this sounds so far-fetched.”

“Not in my line of work.”

Monica put her head back and gave a sigh of absolute frustration before beginning to tell Chase her story about being raised by a single mother from the time her father had died - when she was seven - that she was close to her mother and was an only child. Her mother had not remarried, had not even dated since her father passed on.

“I’m sorry to hear that. What about a boyfriend or husband who may have been preparing to visit you or escort you home?”

“There’s no one,” she replied as though it didn’t bother her.

“Are there any ex-boyfriends who may be hanging on?” Chase asked pointedly.

“My relationships are with words. There is no ex-boyfriend,” Monica stated clearly.

“What a shame!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Monica asked with a gasp.

“Forgive me. That was out of line. I think I should leave now.”

Chase rose to leave her bedside but Monica reached out and caught hold of his hand. “Tell me what you meant,” she asked under her breath. “Please.”

Momentarily, Chase struggled within himself, knowing he should just leave and go home to his family but something in her voice captivated his attention and made him turn around to face her.

“Have you looked into a mirror lately?”

“No, I’ve been living in denial. I can only imagine how awful I look with this bandage around my head,” she replied with a smile.

Chase stepped closer. “I saw the photo in your office of you with your mom, remember? I think it was a recent photo. Am I right?”

“Yes. Every time we have a new one taken, I replace the picture in the frame.”

“You’re deluding yourself if you think that head bandage you’re sporting detracts from your beauty. It’s a shame you’ve never let anyone get close to your heart.”

“I couldn’t take the risk of being heartbroken. My mother was devastated when my father died and she never really got over it. I didn’t want to take the chance of the same thing happening to me.”

“Who says the same thing would happen to you?”

“That’s just it. There really is no way to know but I didn’t want to take the gamble. Trust me. I’ve seen enough pain and heartache to last two lifetimes.”

“That’s another shame. You really ought to reconsider your stance on relationships.”

“My fiction is fine enough. It takes me to unimaginable heights and I visit more places in the world than I could ever dream of visiting in reality.”

“What about when you have a bad day?”

“I rarely do, but I have my mom; she’s my best friend.”

“What if she doesn’t live forever?” Chase asked as he leaned in to look deeper into her eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of her soul.

Monica bit her bottom lip and it began to tremble. “I’m sorry,” Chase said as he pulled her head into the crook of his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make you cry but you really should reconsider. Sometimes the heartache is worth it, you know.”

“Listen to the voice of experience speaking.” Monica invited him to elaborate.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been a heartthrob since I can remember,” he teased as he pulled away and stood straighter. “Actually, I’m married but I have to admit there are days when it’s a real challenge to stay that way. Even so, the good outweighs the bad most of the time.”

“Well, your wife is probably waiting for you to return home,” Monica stated, immediately dismissing Chase in favour of a book her mother had brought in earlier.

Chase removed the book from her hands. “I’m still here, you know,” he said softly while setting the book on the table beside her bed. “Please don’t tune me out in the middle of a conversation.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but you said you were married. I answered the questions you asked so I presume you’ve gotten what you’ve come here for. You’re free to leave now.”

“I’m not going anywhere; I’m spending the night right here.”

“To what do I owe the occasion?”

“I’m not leaving you alone. An officer is stationed outside your door and I’m staying here. I’ll sleep in a chair; it’s one of the perks of being a cop because I can sleep anywhere. I do have to make a couple of phone calls, though, so I’ll be back shortly.”

“You don’t have to stay on my account. You should go home to your wife.”

“I’m staying because I need to make sure you’re all right. Go ahead; enjoy your book. You probably won’t even know when I’ve returned,” Chase winked as he returned the book to Monica.

~~~~~~~~

What the heck does he think he’s doing, staying here all night? I don’t need him babysitting me as though I’m a little child. Besides, I probably won’t get any sleep with him here; I’ll be too distracted and, to make things worse, he’s married. Could life get any worse? I wish I could return to the life I had when I awakened this morning. I would never have known Chase Travers existed.

~~~~~~~~

Chase went to the men’s room just down the hallway from Monica’s room and hit his head against the wall. What the heck possessed me to say I’d be staying overnight? A guard stationed outside Monica’s door should be good enough; why do I feel this need to protect her myself so badly?

Without having to examine himself further, Chase knew the main reason for being unsettled. Yes, Monica was attractive and, if he wasn’t careful, he could get himself into deep trouble with his emotions.

However, the greatest concern really was for her safety; it’s sad that he couldn’t fully trust those around him who also swore to protect and serve.

Pulling himself together, he made the dreaded phone call to his wife, saying that he wouldn’t be coming home until the following day. He explained the warehouse shooting and how he wanted to stick close to the victim for the time being.

After fetching a bottle of water from the vending machine, he saw a woman who must have been Monica’s mother sitting just down the hallway outside her door and decided to sit with her for a while.

“How are you holding up, Ma’am?

“I’m tired and worried. She’s all I have, you know. If anything had happened to Monica today, I truly don’t think I could have survived another day. She’s all I have. Take care of her for me, will you?” she begged, while clinging to Chase’s hand. “Promise me you won’t let anything bad happen to her.”

“Ma’am, I will try my absolute best to protect your daughter,” Chase promised. “In fact, I’ll be returning to her room shortly to sit with her through the night. You really should try to get some sleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to.”

“In that case, I want you to try to think of anyone who would go to any length to protect your daughter. Is there anyone you know who might kill three men to save Monica’s life?”

“That’s easy to answer. Everyone adores Monica. Almost anyone I know would go to great lengths to protect her if she was in danger.”

Chase groaned. “That’s not the answer I was hoping to hear.” He rubbed his temples, trying to figure out what he was missing. It was there on the periphery but trying to reel it in was impossible and the further he probed, the more distant it became.

Chapter 3

Chase returned to a sleeping Monica but he knew sleep would elude him. Sure, he could sleep anywhere if his mind was settled but his mind continued to spin in various directions.

He kept thinking about the warehouse - three sets of footprints when there should have been, at least, four. No prints were found - inside or out - except for those of the three men who had been killed.

The bullets fired into the victims were, for the time being, unidentifiable. Their rap sheets were miles long. In all honesty, in Chase’s mind, they deserved to die so they wouldn’t be inflicting such agony on others. Even so, it was still the case of three unsolved homicides with no suspects on the horizon.

It felt like a professional hit but it didn’t make sense to leave Monica behind. After all, why go to such lengths to save her life and then leave her behind?

The whole thing didn’t sit well and Chase’s stomach churned as one hour rolled into the next.

It seemed he had just dozed when he heard Monica sobbing. Creeping quietly to her bed, he determined she was still sleeping. He waited a few moments; the sobs subsided and she floated back into unconsciousness.

He wondered what she had been dreaming. Suddenly, she cried, “Daddy, don’t leave us. Don’t go, Daddy!” The sobs began again and, this time, Chase balanced himself on the edge of the bed and pulled her to his chest, cradling the back of her head with his free arm.

“It’s all right. You had a bad dream,” he whispered into her hair. “Tell me about it. The rest of the world is asleep but I’m here.” Chase remained as he was, continuing to softly reassure her that everything would be OK - that it was only a dream.

Monica pulled her head back far enough to look into his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.

“But I am,” he replied softly.

“Why?” she implored.

“Because I want to protect you,” he whispered.

“The other officers can protect me,” she challenged quietly.

“But I need to protect you. I need to be sure you’re OK.”

“I am OK, especially when the moon is shining into the room like this. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Chase whispered as he put her head back on the bed, fixing her hair on the pillow the best he could, before telling her to get some sleep.

“What if I can’t sleep?”

“Then it will be a long night for both of us.”

Monica sighed. “I was dreaming about my dad.”

“Do you remember him?” Chase asked as he sat next to her on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t remember him in the sense that he was around all the time; it seems he popped in and out of my life. When he was around, we spent all of our time together and I felt like a queen. Sometimes I think Mom may have even felt a little jealous of the time we spent together,” Monica replied with a sheepish smile. “Even so, I wanted as much time as I could get with my dad.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know. He would be home then he would be gone for a few months and come home for a week or two before leaving again.”

“How was he the last time he came home?”

“He was different. He looked the same and tried to act the same but I could tell something was wrong. He didn’t have that same twinkle in his eye when he looked at me and, sometimes, I would hear him on the phone talking in other languages. I didn’t know he knew another language.”

“Monica, how did he die?”

“He was shot in the chest.” The tears came freely now. “Mom and I returned home from grocery shopping and he was already dead. I loved him so much and I wish he didn’t have to die,” Monica sobbed. “No one ever found out who killed him.”

Chase stretched out on the little hospital bed and wrapped his arms around Monica with her head buried in his chest. “Come on, cry! Get it out of your system. I’m so sorry to hear about your dad.”

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