The Escape

Red and blue lights light up the dark evening skies. Busybodies are crowding in along the sidewalks, trying to figure out what's happening.

The Berryville detectives arrive to find a few officers securing the scene while the remaining struggle to keep the onlookers back. Crowd control is a tedious job often given to newbies in the field, a rite of passage in the Berryville PD.

Joe and his crew duck under the tape to find two officers escorting their suspect out of the house. Her blood-stained hands are cuffed behind her back. Red liquid covers Janet's once-white floral dress. Joe presumes the liquid to be a mix of her and her husband's blood. There are fresh cuts along the suspect's pale face. A trail of dried blood runs along either side. Bruises in different stages of healing run down her arms and legs.

Joe shakes his head. Why didn't you get out when you had the chance? Joe and his crew offered to help her find a safe place to live, but she always declined, claiming she and Timmy would stay with her mom for a bit. They'd lock Bill up for as long as possible, hoping it'd give Janet enough time to escape. They'd be called back to the house a few days later.

"Sergeant, detectives." The rookie says as they pass.

"I want to talk to her before they take her away."

The rookie nods again. "I'll let the EMTs know."

"Who was the first to arrive, son?" Joe asks, glancing around.

The young lad turns toward the house, points, and says, "Kirk, Sir. He was processing the kitchen when I saw him last."

The officer tries to push Janet on.

She takes a few steps, turns, and says, "I didn't kill him, Joe. I didn't. It wasn't me."

"You'll talk to him soon," the officer says, pushing her along.

Joe turns toward his crew. "I'll talk to Kirk. I want you to interview the crowd and see what they say." He looks at the growing crowd, chuckles, and adds, " I'll let you two decide how you want to split this circus up. "

Jerry nods and says, "Thanks, boss."

Joe sees their ME examining their victim when he steps through the door. Joe is glad it's her and not one of her assistants working the scene. Sharon will finish the job tonight, while her less dedicated assistance might take a week or more. "What can you tell me, Sharon?"

She glances up at the sergeant, smiles, and says, " Evening, Serg." Sharon and Joe have worked together since the start of their careers. She was fresh out of med school, and he was just out of the academy. "I'm ruling the cause of death as blunt force trauma to the back of the head." She points to the gaping wound. "I believe this is your murder weapon. Sharon picks up the bloody bat. Kirk said he found it lying a few feet away. She angled the weapon just below the wound. "The impression marks match, and I found this embedded in his skull." She holds up a small plastic bag containing a sliver of wood. "I'll confirm the match when I get it to my lab, but I'm almost certain it came from this." She holds the weapon out for Joe to see. She glances up and adds, "I'll have my team check for prints and DNA. I should know something for certain later tonight."

"I appreciate it, Sharon."

Joe walks through the house trying to piece the crime together when he finds Kirk busy processing the kitchen. Joe walks over, clears his throat, and says, "I heard you're first on the scene."

"Yes, Sir. I'd just finished up on another a few blocks from here when this call came in."

"Describe what you saw when you first pulled up?"

"Only two lights were on in the house, and I saw no movement inside. My first thought was they were both dead. I approached the house to find the front door open and the screen unlocked. I announced myself as I stepped inside but didn't hear a thing. I went through the house to find the suspect sobbing on the couch, covered in what I assumed to be her husband's blood. The victim was across the room, lying face down in a pile of clothes. I checked the body for signs of life and discovered he was recently deceased. The body was still warm, and rigor mortis hadn't set in. I returned to talk with the wife to see if she'd tell me what happened tonight."

"What did she say?"

"She kept repeating, " I'm sorry, Bill, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for things to turn out this way." I asked her what'd happened, and she kept repeating how sorry she was, that she hadn't meant for him to end up dead."

"Tell me about the house, Kirk." Joe winks and adds, "Put your studies to use. Test what you've learned so far."

Kirk smiles. He loves new challenges; he has since he was a kid. The school had to put him in advanced learning to keep him engaged. His love for learning continued through his adult years, earning him the nickname wiz kid and boy wonder. ( Boy. it's a wonder your brain doesn't explode from all the knowledge stored up there.) It's also the reason he decided to get out of forensics. He likes his job and crew, but Kirk decides he needs a change after ten years. Standing, Kirk gets a serious look and says, "According to the evidence, the broken plates in the garbage, the kitchen chairs tipped on their side, and blood splatter on the floor. I'd say the fight started in here. The victim's husband beats her and then orders her to cook him dinner." Kirk points to the garbage, the tipped chair, and the food on the counter as he explains his thoughts. "Bill goes into the front room. Janet, fed up with his abuse, follows him. She sneaks up behind him and clobbers him with the bat."

Joe runs his fingers through his hair as he considers what Kirk has said. "That's a good start, but don't let it stop you from considering other possibilities. Things aren't always what they seem."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir."

Joe pats the technician on the back. "Good."

Joe recalls the last time he was called out as he glances around. He shakes his head and says, "If I'd only tried harder, be more convincing, it might not've ended this way."

"You can't save them all, Sir."

A few of the women he's failed to protect come to mind. "It'd be nice if I could save one for a change."

"You've helped more people than you know, sir."

"I wish I could believe that." With his head hung down, Joe heads towards the ambulance. He's halfway across the yard when he sees Rachel walking toward him, yelling his name.

"Did you find something, Detective?"

"Their next-door neighbors said Bill pulls up to the house around a quarter till nine. They heard him screaming and then breaking glass, so they called 911.

"Did they see what happened?"

Rachel shakes her head. "No. Bill threatened to shoot them if he saw them near his yard. From what I've heard, quite a few neighbors feared what Bill would do. One neighbor said their fighting seemed nightly there towards the last, and they constantly feared that Bill would go too far. A few neighbors even suggested giving Janet an award for getting rid of the peckerwood."

"Peckerwood?"

Rachel chuckles; their words, not mine, sir." She leans in and whispers, "I have to agree." She's broken up numerous fights between Bill and his supposed bar pals. She's even stitched up a few when she was a nurse working in the ER.

Joe's had to deal with the man on numerous occasions, starting back in grade school, so some of Joe wants to agree that Janet did the world a favor. But the cop side of him swore to uphold the law, despite his thoughts. "Has anyone interviewed Janet yet?"

"We figured you'd want to since you're a family friend."

"I'll go talk to her. You finish with the neighbors and talk to her little boy," he instructs.

"Yes, Sir."

"How's Janet holding up?" Joe asks the paramedic as he steps up to the front of the bus.

"Her only injuries are a few superficial wounds on her face. Emotionally the poor girl's a wreck. Which is understandable after all Bill's put her through."

Walking to the back of the vehicle, Joe opens it and says, " I need to ask you a few..." He glances inside to find Janet's bloody bandages on the cot where she'd once sat. The IV that the EMTs inserted in her arm is now dripping on the metal floor.

Joe turns towards the paramedic. Daggers shoot from his eyes when he asks, "Why didn't you stay with her?" He dangles the metal bracelets in front of him. "And why did you take these off."

The EMT studders. "I didn't think she'd run, sir, not in the shape she's in."

Sixteen thousand eight hundred die each year from domestic abuse. If you're a victim, you might be next.

You can get the help you need 24/7 by visiting

https://www.thehotline.org/ or by calling 1800-779 safe (7233)

PLEASE DO NOT BELIEVE

He's sorry It'll never happen again. It will happen Worse than the last.

YOU"RE NOT ALONE.

YOU'RE LIFE MATTERS.

So, please get the help you need before it's too late.

https://www.thehotline.org/ or by calling 1800-779 safe (7233)