Crime, Thrillers & Mystery / Secret Avenues

Chelsea woke up sweating, desperately wanting to run. Sitting up in bed, she gasped for breath. Bryan stirred and looked up at his wife. She was drenched, looking like she had run a marathon. Chelsea felt like it to; she was in fight or flight mode and needed a glass of water.
“You okay?” Her husband yawned.
Nodding her head, Chelsea grunted. She had felt a lot better, but compared to the last few days she knew she was doing better health wise. Rolling back into bed, she attempted to calm her racing heart. The clock near her side of the bed said that it was eight in the morning.
Yeah, it was a definite improvement from the last few days. Using the breathing techniques from her lamas class, Chelsea tried to regulate her breathing. Bryan sat up in bed fully awake, looking in alarm down at his wife.
“Oh, my god.” He breathed. “Do you need anything? A glass of water, a pain pill, anything?”
Chelsea turned her eyes towards him.
“How about . . . .your . . . . hand?” She gasped.
Bryan began to reach out to her, then jerked his hand back. That was the same thing she had said when she had given birth to the twins. The next thing he experienced was a mind numbing pain as she squeezed his hand.
“Nice try,” he said.
“Good . . . move . . . Sparky.” She heaved. Her eyes twinkled mischievously. As the heaviness of her breathing subsiding, she curled back under the covers. She snuggled close to her husband.
“Did you have any more nightmares?”
“When are the kids coming home?”
“Do you always a question with a question?”
“How long have you been married to me?” Chelsea smiled mischievously. Bryan had to laugh. He swung his legs out of bed.
“I’ll get some coffee,” he told her.
“Make mine orange juice.” Chelsea pulled the covers over her head and closed her eyes. Breathing in the smell of her husband’s cologne and sweat, she tried to forget the dream that lingered. She couldn’t remember everything just snippets and occasionally shadows. Street lights had illuminated the street she had been standing on; she had been anxious like she had to meet someone.
She lay still to listen for Bryan in the kitchen, but there was nothing. Pulling her head out from under the covers she sat in silence frowning at the door. Just as she swung her legs out of bed to see what was keeping him, she heard him.
“Honey?” Bryan called in trepidation.
“What? What is it? Hold on.” Grateful for having her mobility back, she jogged into the living area where he stood only to stop short. The couple’s front door had a massive hole in it that looked out to the hallway. It appeared as though someone had kicked the door repeatedly in a fit of rage.
“Holy shit,” she breathed. “Where did that come from and how did we sleep through it?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Bryan inched towards the door to get a better look.
“Don’t touch!” Chelsea cried as she inched towards the phone. “You’ll be incriminating a crime scene.”
“I know that, I’m a lawyer and I’ll be destroying the crime scene, not incriminating it.” Bryan crouched down near the door. “How the hell are we going to explain this to the super?”

Two hours later the Barada’s house had gone from a swanky apartment to a detective’s dream. Somebody hadn’t just kicked their door in; the person had also gone through their apartment. Bryan and Chelsea stood aimlessly in the middle of their apartment answering questions.
“And you’re saying you slept through all of this?” The officer pressed.
“No,” Chelsea replied. “I woke up found some hooded psycho breaking down my door and thought it would be best if we just talked out his rage instead. So I brought him in and gave him milk and cookies in an attempt to play Shrink.”
The officer stared at her open mouthed. The other cops in the room looked over at Chelsea. The woman rolled her eyes, not only was this cop asking the same questions repeatedly he was also believing everything she said.
“Look,” She said. “Some loony tunes doctor prescribed me Valium about four days ago which caused me to sleep for days at a time. So when I woke up I pretty much felt like shit. My husband took me to the hospital yesterday where guess what happened to me? I had my stomach pumped. Goodie for me. So last night was the first night I’ve had a decent night of sleep that didn’t involve narcotics. So do you really think I’m going to wake up to someone kicking my door in? Besides, if I had heard them don’t you think you would have been here sooner?”
Staring momentarily at Chelsea, the detective turned his attention to Bryan. She automatically felt a severe contempt for the man. Bryan laughed nervously. Imitating him, Chelsea shot a glance at the cop and before slinking away muttering “asshole.”
“You’ll have to pardon my wife,” Bryan said. “She’s been through a lot in the last few days as you’ve already heard.”
“She was really prescribed Valium by some loony tunes doctor?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“With all due respect, sir, I would have kept her on it.”
Bryan shot the man a warning look. “Could we go back to my door, now?”
“Your door is self-explanatory. Someone kicked the hell out of your door.”
“But?”
“It doesn’t explain how the guy got into your apartment.”
“Or why certain items are missing that were here last night.”
“Exactly, what makes this case even weirder is that the only prints are yours and your wife’s. And there’s something else.” The cop said uneasily to Bryan.
“What?”
“Whoever kicked your door in was wasn’t just anybody. They had trailed in blood, you can find it down in the lobby of the apartment complex as well.”
“Who’s blood?”
“We don’t know yet, but until we find out I’m afraid your apartment is officially a crime scene. Is there some place you and your wife can go for a few days?”
Bryan laughed out loud. Chelsea looked at her husband oddly from the doorway of their bedroom.
“I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t want to know. I’m going back to bed. Wake me when this is over, or at least when there’s food available for me to eat.” She scratched her butt and began to shuffle into the bedroom. She was about to shut the door when the cop nearest to her re-opened it.
“Ma’am,” he said.
“Either let go of the door or get it shut in your face Sparky. Choose one or I’ll choose it for you. What will it be?” Chelsea growled. “I’ve been through enough shit in the last few days and I’m not about to take on anymore”
“Please, ma’am . . .” the cop began only to be cut off by Chelsea.
“Bryan,” she interrupted. “What the hell is your problem?”
As Bryan’s laughter subsided, he wiped tears away from his eyes. “Oh, baby,” he said. “It looks like the pope broke in and threw a luau.”
Chelsea’s lip curled up.
“Fuck the pope,” she growled. Slamming the door in the young cop’s face, she locked it and crawled back into bed. Bryan burst into another bout of laughter that caused him to double over and the cops to look at him funny.
Bryan gathered himself together and brought himself back up to a standing position.
“Look Officer . . .”
“Price.”
“Price. I’m afraid we have a conflict of interest.” Bryan explained. “My wife is sick. Hence, the reason the first doctor thought the Valium would help.”
“I understand sir. There is a hospital close to the Holiday Inn down on the lower east side of Chicago. If that helps any.”
“Actually it doesn’t. You see my wife and I were already at the hospital yesterday. It’s where she had her stomach pumped. The problem is not something that is easily detectable and her doctor wanted to keep her in the hospital for further observation. Unfortunately, my wife has a deep fear of hospitals so she was allowed to leave the hospital under the stipulation that she did not leave the apartment. The doctor’s words verbatim were ‘And do not leave the apartment under any circumstances. I don’t care if the pope breaks into your apartment to throw a luau.’”
“Well, I’m quite certain that the pope wasn’t the one that kicked in your door, and I’m also sure that the doctor didn’t mean for her stay here when the apartment is crime scene. I mean it. You are going to have to move out.” Officer Price said. Seeing Bryan’s objection he raised his hands. “I’m sorry Mr. Barada. We can’t have her destroying the scene, she can’t stay.”
“Actually the doctor did say she had to stay.” Bryan relented a little. “I understand that you can’t have her destroying the crime scene, but she is sick and can’t leave the familiar.”
“I’m sure you can take somewhere else that is familiar to her.” Price stated.
“No,” Bryan said sadly. “I wish I hadn’t called this in because moving my wife would a liability. And anyone could be held responsible for her actions, even you.”
Price narrowed his eyes at Bryan.
“What exactly is wrong with your wife?”
“I can’t say.”
“You can’t say or you won’t say?”
“I can’t say, because nobody knows.”

Rowan sat on her parents porch swing as she tried to contact Chelsea. It wasn’t like her not to call her back. She admitted that she was hiding away from Nick and her creditors, but she wasn’t hiding away from her best friend. It had been two weeks since she had been fired from her telemarketing job and a week since she had started dating Kit. Her job record hadn’t been looking good, but at least her love life was; if you could call it that.
Kit talked about the area every time they were together. He wanted to get out of telemarketing and start his own farm. His father had worked in sales all of his life and Kit didn’t want to live his life that way. He wanted to live a simple life. In Kit’s world a few cows, chickens, roosters, and mucking out stalls was simple. He loved the way all you had to do on a hot summer’s day was open the windows to get a breeze and the thought of gardening his own fruits and vegetables was productive.
Rowan curled her upper lip up at the thought of it. She hated the area, it was too rural for her. Cows were nothing but a tank of fertilizer to her, chickens were only good as breast meat, and roosters woke her up at ungodly hours. She also didn’t see the point of opening up your windows during the summer to “get a breeze” when all the breeze was going to bring was the smell of fertilizer the cows were producing; besides air conditioning had been created for a reason. Fruits and vegetables were only meant to be purchased at the nearest super center where she could also get her nails done and do some clothes shopping. Besides, gardening would ruin her manicure.
She was starring at her home made manicure when a car horn blasted. Jumping off the porch swing she searched around for the culprit. In the drive way sat a bright red Dodge Neon.
“What the hell?” She muttered.
Creeping off the porch to get a closer look, the car door opened and out stepped a raven haired woman. The woman wore a stretchy red t-shirt that was about as red as her car and a pair of faded blue jeans. She wore riding boots over her jeans and stood, arm hanging on her car, up at Rowan. She woman pulled her sunglasses on top of her head revealing her olive eyes. Rowan wasn’t close enough to see the woman’s eye color, but she’d know it any distance away from the woman.
“Holy . . .” Rowan breathed.
“Ro?” The woman called. “What are you doing here?”
“Felicia? What are you doing here?” Rowan called down. “You’re not here to stay with mom and dad are you? It would make for good times, but an uncommonly full house.”
Felicia laughed. “Oh, hell no. I’m not moving in. Remember how the saying goes, you can move out but never move back? No way sis.”
Felicia started to move up the pathway when the front door swung open. The girl’s mother ran down the walk towards her younger daughter.
“Oh, my baby. My baby.” Julia cried. “Jack, Felicia’s home.”
Felicia hugged her mother politely and mouthed “you could have warned me” to her older sister. Rowan just smirked. Ethan sailed out of the house, running towards the gate. Jack followed behind him and the terrorist down at the goat barn started howling.
“Welcome home!” She called to her sister that was now enveloped by her family. Neither of the girls was as demonstrative as their mother. They took after their father and stood to the side lines smiling, taking in all around them.
Felicia fought her way out from her brother and mother to greet her father. She started up towards the house to smack her sister in the arm. Rowan smacked her back after first contact. The stood there staring at each with a mixture of awe and unsaid love. They hadn’t seen each other in five years, but every time they reunited a person could always see the closeness and admiration that they held for the other.

Police bustled in and out of the Barada home as Chelsea sat cross-legged on the side of her bed. The young cop that had tried to keep her from closing her bedroom door was now pleading to her through that same door. In the last fifteen minutes she had learned that his name was Officer Kearns and that she reminded him of his wife Sonya.
Kearns said that she would get along with her, only she would have to unlock herself from bedroom because Sonya was seven months pregnant with twins of her own. Officer Kearns was already attempting to tell her about the time Sonya had become so angry at him she locked herself in the laundry room and sat among the detergents.
Chelsea rolled her eyes. She was certain the man was not married, especially to a woman like her. A woman like her would have cold cocked him then left him withering in pain on the floor, seven months pregnant or not. She had moved from contempt for the young cop to a hatred that would rival even “Sonya’s.” A banging at the door indicated that Kearns had moved from talking to her to knocking. It was either that or he was just banging his head on it in exasperation.
Sliding off the edge of the bed, she went over to the phone and dialed Rowan’s number. She needed to complain to someone who understood her plight. Rowan would back her in an instant. The hollow sound of ringing echoed in her ear before it slipped into her best friend’s voice mail. Groaning to herself, Chelsea fell back on to the bed. She needed to actually communicate with Rowan, not to her voice mail.
“Ro, it’s me. Sorry I haven’t called you sooner, but I’ve been sick. Really sick, and get this . . . the doctor claims there’s nothing wrong with me. Go figure, I always hated those white coats. They claim to know it all, but really there just feeding you a line of bullshit about your health then they send you on your way. Anyway, I’m confined to my apartment for the time being, doctor’s orders.
“Now to top that off I have the police tearing my apartment up. Apparently it’s a crime scene and I have to move out. Like that’s going to happen. I’m sticking with doctor’s orders. Oh my god, it’s a miracle. Actually, I just don’t want to go anywhere. I already locked myself in my bedroom. Some kindergarten cop is trying to cajole me to come out. I think he’s had enough and is banging his head against the door. So, call me!”
Hanging up the phone she stared at the ceiling. That’s when she realized Kearns was no longer talking to her through the door, even the banging had stopped. Lifting herself off the bed, she walked to the bathroom off the master bedroom. A quick glance in the mirror caused her to shriek. Her hair stuck out on end, looking as though she had stuck her finger in an electrical socket. Her face was pale and her blue eyes weren’t as bright as they usually were.
Turning the faucets, Chelsea readied herself for a bath. Bryan could duke it out with the police; she didn’t have the energy.

A half hour later Chelsea stepped out of the bath to wrap a towel tightly around her body. The bathroom had steamed over and she reveled in the sauna like room. Reaching for a robe she heard a knocking from the bedroom door. Tying the robe on, she entered the bedroom area and walked towards the door.
“I can not leave the apartment, and until you imbeciles understand that this door is not going to be unlocked to you!”
“Chelsea, it’s me.” Bryan’s voice called to her from the other side of the door. “Unlock the door hon.”
“What?” Chelsea snapped. “Have they brainwashed you too?”
Bryan laughed. “No, I’m still in my right mind. I have good news, and bad news. Unlock the door.”
“Tell me through the door.” She could Bryan sigh in frustration.
It must be amusing to the officers still in the apartment, that her husband could sway the most powerful of judges towards a guilty verdict. However, he couldn’t persuade his own wife to unlock their bedroom door. For Bryan’s sake, she opened the door of the bedroom.
“I called the office to check in with the laws surrounding crime scenes since you can’t leave. You can stay in the apartment, that’s the good news. The bad news is that you are going to have to be treated as evidence.”
“As what?” Chelsea exclaimed. “I’m not going to be a piece of evidence for them.”
“Lady,” Officer Price spoke up, “we’re about as happy about this as you are.”
“I’d say dust her for fingerprints, but my guess is that the woman’s already cleaned up,” a cop from the kitchen piped in.
“What’s that a little cop humor?” Chelsea snarled, “Because I have news for you chubby. You stay in your little corner and I’ll stay in mine. Mess up my house, or break anything it’s coming out of your precious pension.”
Turning to Officer Price she pointed her finger at him.
“Let’s get one thing straight. I may be evidence in your investigation but I also have some limits. If you need anything from my person I will do it myself. Capiesh. No body touches me. As for the food in my house, I will eat it. The books in my house, I do and will read them. The television will also be used by me, and on the days where everything in my body hurts, all blankets on my furniture comes off and I will sit on the actual cushions and lay my head on the actual pillows. Then I will proceed to channel surf using my own remote. I am used to the luxuries of my own apartment, and I will be damned if they are taken away from me just because some punk kicked a hole in my door.”
Before Price could answer her he was interrupted by another officer. The man was closing a flip cell phone as he pulled Price away from the Baradas. Both men spoke earnestly before Price returned to Chelsea.
“Mrs. Barada I hate to tell you this, but forensics just found out that the blood sample from your hallway is the same as the latest Chicago murder. Are there any reasons why that is?”
Bryan looked Officer Price in disbelief. Chelsea slammed and locked her bedroom door again.
“Mrs. Barada? Ma’am? We’re going to have to dust and look around in there. Mrs. Barada?” Kearns knocked on the bedroom door.
“Go to hell!” Chelsea yelled from inside.
“I’ll be glad when this is over.” Price muttered