They had just finished making love. They had been seeing each other for about a month regularly in the early evenings. In her apartment lying on her bed together she propped herself on her elbow and said facing him, "I want more."1
"You want more what?" he said puzzled.2
"I want a full time man."3
"You know better than that," he stated frowning. "My wife, my kids; it's just not possible."4
"I don't care!" she exclaimed becoming upset. "If you love me, you will leave her!"5
"You know I can't do that, at least; not yet."6
"I'll tell her," she said seriously.7
"You'll tell her what?"8
"I'll tell her that we've been seeing each other and you are planning to leave her," she said contemplatively.9
"You can't, I need more time!" he said becoming concerned.10
"I'll give you a week," she said after a few moments.11
He was silent for almost ten minutes, quietly looking at her, his face expressionless. She said nothing. They just studied each other trying to read each others faces as though they might be able to read each others minds. Finally he said, "Okay. Have it your way."12
He began kissing her and she eagerly responded believing she had won. He laid on top of her pinning her under himself and clasped his hands around her throat. His face turning red with anger and strain he squeezed with all his might. 13
A look of shock and horror crossed her face as she looked up into his glaring eyes. She began struggling. She tried with all her might to free herself and to breathe. Her face turned red and her eyes grew large, her lungs screaming for air. Her struggle lessened and stopped. Her face became pale with a bluish tint. Her pupils began to dilate.14
He knew she was dead for several minutes before he was able to let go. Carefully he looked through her apartment for anything which may have belonged to him or might tie him somehow to her. He found her address book and took it. He dressed, and then wiped every surface that might have had his prints clean. "Damn!" he thought. He wished he had never seen the beautiful blonde. He closed the apartment door locking it behind him with a handkerchief.15
16
17
Eight o'clock in the morning and I arrived at work. I put my purse in my locker and clipped my cuffs, holster and gun to my belt. I was already wearing my badge. I was in good physical shape and pretty tough for a woman of thirty. I had been a detective for just over a year. I had always wanted to be a cop, but after being one for eight years I was beginning to have doubts about staying at it. As a homocide detective, I was always getting a good look at the darker side of human nature. I was becoming callous.18
I was still attractive for my age, average in height and build, dark hair and hazel eyes. I was wearing a light blue cotton button shirt and tan slacks. I wore no lipstick. I was not a prude, although I had never married. Although I had dated many men, the relationships had been mostly short term. I didn't seem to attract the marrying kind of men.19
"Hi, Jack!" I said smiling as he opened his locker. Jack was tall, dark, and handsome and he was a year or so younger than I was. He had been dectective for three years. Promotions seem to come quicker to men than women in our department. He was my senior partner.20
"Good Morning, Clara," he said. He seemed tired and worn.21
"It's going to be a hot day for a long sleeve shirt," I told him.22
"Yeah, you are probably right. Should have worn short sleeve."23
"Rough night?" I asked.24
"Definitely, I am not sure I slept at all."25
"Problems at home?" I queried.26
"No, not really. Just one of those nights."27
We had a new homicide and went to the scene. Trish Baker, twenty-three, strangled apparently after having sex. There was no signs of forced entry and no obvious signs of rape. Her eyes were wide open and glazed. Her mouth was open and her tongue out. Her beauty much lost in death, her nude body lay sprawled on the bed.28
"How long she been dead," Jack asked the M. E.29
The medical examiner said, "My guess is about 5 - 7 hours. She probably put up a struggle. There seems to be skin under her nails. I'll know more when I study her at the lab."30
"The faster, the better," I said. "Time is working against us."31
The forensics team were dusting for prints, vacuuming for hair, and such. We had passed a young woman who was sitting on the sofa with a patrolman giving an initial statement. She was teary eyed and had obviously been crying. The patrolman said, "This is Nancy Sullivan. She found Ms. Baker."32
"How did you happen to find her?" asked Jack.33
"I came by to pick her up for work, but she didn't come down. I came upstairs and let myself in," she said her voice breaking. "Oh God! She's dead!"34
"Why do you have a key to her apartment?" I questioned.35
"I tried to wake her, but she was so cold and wouldn't move," she said crying again.36
"Why do you have a key?" I repeated.37
"Oh, we traded keys with each other about a year ago so we could get into each other's apartment if we needed to. We rarely needed to do that," Nancy explained. "I'm not in trouble am I?"38
"Should you be?" asked Jack.39
"I don't know," she whined.40
"That's all right Nancy," I said sympathetically, "I don't believe you've done anything wrong. Did you notice anything or anyone unusual?"41
"No." 42
"Did she have a boyfriend?" I asked. The apartment seemed to be that of a single woman.43
"She was seeing someone new, I think. I believe he was married."44
"Nancy, now this is important. Is there anything you can tell me about this man?" I asked sternly.45
"No," she replied. "I've never seen him and she hardly talked about him."46
"Well, if something should occur to you," Jack interjected, handing her his card, "Call me."47
"Did Trish have any boyfriends before this new one that you know of?" I inquired of her.48
"For about two years she dated Jim Benson. He's the only one I know. Was Trish murdered? I don't think he would have done a thing like that."49
It was going to be in the papers anyway, so I said "Yes, she was murdered." I watched her reaction closely, but read nothing suspicious.50
"There is no one else you can think of?" demanded Jack.51
"No."52
I guessed that Jack was just grouchy from lack of sleep. I asked nicely, "Do you know where we can find Jim?"53
"Yes. He works at Ace Hardware on Main street. At least he did a couple of months ago."54
"Thanks, Nancy." I said. "We'll be in touch if we have any more questions. Be sure to call us if you think of anything which might be helpful. Even the smallest detail. When the patrolman is finished with you, you may go."55
"Am I in any danger?" asked Nancy.56
"No," answered Jack more himself. "I shouldn't think so."57
Jim Benson was the assistant manager at Ace Hardware.58
"How long have you known Trish Baker?" asked Jack.59
"Is there something wrong with Trish?" he said apparently with deep concern.60
"Answer the question," ordered Jack.61
"About five years. We were pretty serious for the last two, but we broke up a couple of months ago."62
"Jim," I asked. "Why did you break up?"63
"Well, to be honest, she was never quite satisfied with me and was always finding fault. It was kind of a mutual decision. We agreed to some time apart. Is she all right?"64
"No. She's dead," Jack stated bluntly."65
Jim's mouth fell open and his face paled. "Dead!" he repeated.66
"You kill her?" Jack continued fiercely.67
"Me?" said Jim and paled even more if possible. After a moment he said, "I would never hurt Trish," and tears appeared at his eyes.68
He was either the best liar I had seen or innocent and I was betting on the latter.69
We asked him about friends they shared and if he knew any one who might have have held a grudge against her and Jack left him with his card.70
The next day was supposed to be cooler so Jack's long sleeve shirt seemed more weather appropriate. I was wearing a jacket. There was a shortage of normal prints, so it was assumed the perpetrator had tried to wipe off his prints. The blood type of the killer was A+ which was relatively common, but there was enough tissue for a DNA comparison. It appeared that the sex which occurred just prior to her death was consensual.71
We questioned her friends and her co-workers and came up with nothing promising. It was a long day and we worked until dark. Jack's behavior had been puzzling me. He just didn't seem to himself. He was edgy and quick tempered which was just not his way.72
Kidding I said, "You're A+, aren't you?" We were driving in our unit. The look on his face surprised me. It was a look of fear. I had never seen him afraid.73
I was deeply troubled by the thoughts I was having. I said, "Stop the car, Jack."74
He pulled to the side of the road. "Roll up your sleeves," I said.75
Instead he pulled out his automatic and pointed it at me. Somehow it was impossible for me to believe that he would shoot and yet I knew that he might at the same time. "Put your head in my lap and your hands behind your back," he said in a sinisterly understated calm.76
I did as he instructed and he cuffed me. "What are you going to do, Jack? You will never get away with killing me."77
He remained silent. I guess he was trying to decide what to do. He began driving out of town.78
"Jack, this is insane," I told him. "You know you can't do it."79
He drove to a wooded area. He parked, opened the passenger door, unfastened my seat belt, and said, "Get out of the car."80
"Jack," I said panicking. "You don't know what you're doing. Think!"81
"Walk," he commanded. I began walking from the road toward the woods. He was really going to kill me. It was pointless. He would never get away with it, but he was going to do it. I was both amazed and frightened. I had seen death so much that the possibility of it I had often considered and in some ways I was prepared. I was also fascinated in an odd sort of way. It was almost like being outside myself and viewing it from that perspective. I knew I was walking to my death.82
"Jack, please!"83
"I really liked you, Clara. I hate to have to do this, but prison is no place for a cop."84
He forced me about a mile into the woods and then helped me sit with my back against the tree. He took my pistol from my holster. "Jack, please don't," I pleaded crying.85
Jack held the gun to my temple and said, "Close your eyes."86
87
88
Jack wiped his prints from Clara's weapon and placed her right hand around it after he had removed his cuffs and squeezed. This left only her prints on the gun. He allowed it to fall from her hand. Although they had been together for a year as detectives, he had not realized she was left handed. Clara had died instantly. He took her keys from her pocket and drove back to the police station. He put on gloves. Being careful not to be noticed, he drove off in her car. He returned to the place in the woods where he had parked earlier and drove her car off the road into the woods. Then he walked to where he had left her body. He dropped her keys close to the pocket of her pants he had removed them from. Then he began the long walk home.89
Jack wore long sleeve shirts for about two weeks, regardless of the heat. Clara's body was discovered two days after her death. It had rained. Internal affairs investigated because she was a police officer as well as Jack and his new partner. Her death was determined to be a suicide. Jim Benson was considered the best suspect for the Trish Baker murder, but there was not enough evidence and his blood type was O. Neither did Jim's DNA match. Jack was still unfaithful, but was more careful in his choice of women for his flings.90
Honorable mention
Bronze trophy winner
Gold trophy winner
Silver trophy winner
Adding your comment:
Maybe that's where my horror writing comes from.....anyway I thought you did a wonderful job in thinking the way a murderer would, should they attempt at covering the evidence. And Jack would surely know how to successfully do that 
being a cop and all. 
Though I said I liked this story, which I did, the points previously mentioned made me lose the the tension, no offense 
So I don't think that's an acceptable argument. And by the way was Jesus perfect. He couldn't have done something like that 
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