Chalk Targets

Prologue

She was blindfolded but not gagged. Still, she made no sound; no cry for help as he tied her, fully clothed, to the four corners of her own bed. Only he would have heard her cries and it would only have made him more excited. She refused to give him that satisfaction.

He worked swiftly and silently and she was soon immobilized and helpless. The ropes looped around her wrists and ankles were secure, but not tight. They only dug in if she fought against them, so she didn't fight. She just lay there, willing her breathing to stay even and calm.

She couldn't see him, of course, but she knew that he was standing there looking at her, admiring his work, deciding how he wanted to proceed.

Suddenly, she felt a tug and he ripped open her blouse, sending buttons flying. The suddenness of his action surprised her and she sucked in her breath but still, she did not cry out.

She felt his weight push against the side of the bed. She could hear his breath and she knew he was leaning over her. Then she felt the cold steel of a knife as its flat side slid across her chest and made its way under her bra between her breasts. A sharp tug and the fabric gave way to the blade. He slid the steel slowly over her breasts pushing the cups aside and exposing her flesh to his gaze.

The next excruciating minutes seemed like an hour to her as he moved from one side of the bed to the other and the blade traveled all over her body slitting every article of clothing that she wore. It was obvious that he was in no hurry and she was sure that he was enjoying what he was doing … maybe even as much as what he was going to do.

He took her shredded blouse by the collar and dragged it out from under her. Her bra followed, leaving her naked from the waist up. For several very long seconds, there was nothing. No sound but her own breathing; no touch to her body; no tug at her clothes—what was left of them.

Then she heard a soft click and she knew had taken a picture of her half-naked and tied spread eagle to her own bed.

A moment later he roughly yanked the rag that was her jeans out from under her, taking her panties with them. She now lay completely naked in front of him, save the blindfold tied across her face.

She lay there, helpless, listening to the unmistakable sounds of the man getting out of his own clothes. She felt his weight on the bed, and then she felt his nakedness against hers as he straddled her pelvis. He leaned down and covered her mouth with his.

She returned his kiss with a passionate hunger that she had never known with her husband. Between heavy breaths, in a hoarse whisper, she said into his mouth, If you don't fuck me pretty quick, baby, I am going to explode!

He laughed and said, Your wish is my command, my sweet.

Half an hour later he untied her wrists and ankles from the bedposts and they embraced. They cuddled and kissed lovingly for a long while before getting up and walking hand in hand to the shower.

As he soaped her body, running his hands over every inch of her nakedness, she tried to recall the last time she and her husband—her late husband—had taken a shower together. She couldn't.

***

Hey, honey? Are you coming out to eat? Pamela called down the hallway from the kitchen.

Yeah! Harry shouted in reply. I'm just finishing a chapter. I'll be right out. He hit the save button and looked at the bottom of the screen. Ninety-eight pages; about half done.

As Harry sat down at the table, Pamela asked, So, is the husband dead, yet? Or did you decide to prolong the agony of him knowing that his wife is cheating?

Oh, no, he died in the last chapter, he answered, spearing a couple of green beans with his fork. The wife is just now getting a taste of how much her co-conspirator lover enjoys total control, but she thinks it's just kinky sex, right now.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave when we conspire to kill our husband, Pamela joked. "So, does she live?"

I haven't decided, yet, Harry answered. I've got a couple different directions I'm thinking about taking it.

Chapter 1

Thursday, July 8, 2021

9-1-1. What is your emergency?

My wife's unresponsive! I'm doing chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth but she's not breathing! Please get an ambulance here, quick! This is Harry Fletcher at 55 Weldon Farm Road.

Oh, God, Harry! Gail said, having known both Harry and his wife, Pamela for years. Keep working on her; I'll dispatch fire right away. Stay on the line with me. Do you know what happened?

I think she fell in the bathtub. She might have downed.

As Gail typed Drowning; Bathtub and then pressed a series of buttons to transfer the information and the address to the in-vehicle computers of the fire department vehicles next door and to the two police patrol cars, Gail heard Harry's phone clunk onto the floor, and then the sounds of him grunting as he leaned heavily onto his wife's chest over and over. Between grunts, she heard him plead, Come on, baby! Come on! Start breathing! Don't leave me, baby! Come on!

After three minutes of encouraging him over the phone, Gail said, You're doing good, Harry. Just a little longer; Engine Three just turned onto your street. Is the door open?

Shit! No, it's locked! he answered, and then Gail heard him say to himself, Where the fuck's my phone? She heard some shuffling, heard him say, apparently to his phone, Come on! Come on! and then to her, Okay; it's open!

She heard a thump that she envisioned was Harry dropping his phone again, and then heard him say, "Shit! She's still not breathing, Gail! There was a slight pause, and he added, And she doesn't have a heartbeat! Shit! Shit! Shit!" She then heard the sounds of him resuming the chest compressions.

Don't give up Harry! They're in your driveway, Gail told him. Keep up the compressions; that's getting blood to her brain. Thirty compressions and two breaths. You're doing great! Just a couple more minutes!

A few moments later, Gail faintly heard a door open and then heard Harry shout, In here! Hurry! It was followed by rapidly approaching footsteps of people wearing shoes.

Okay, Harry, Gail heard a woman say, You did great; we'll take it now.

All right, I'm going to hang up now, Gail said. But in the confusion and the noise, she didn't hear a reply.

Just before ending the connection, she heard the faint whoop of another siren. She hoped it was the ambulance that had responded to her open request.

Knowing she had done all she could for Harry and Pamela, Gail tapped an icon on her screen opening a call to Chief Hall's cell phone.

Chapter 2

Thursday, July 8, 2021

Still naked from the shower and toweling her hair, Jackie Hall stepped from her bathroom to find a fully-clothed man sitting on the end of her bed.

I distinctly remember kissing you goodnight at the door, Jackie said as she went to her dresser for a nightgown.

My car wouldn't start, he said. Looks like I'll have to spend the night, after all.

I have jumpers in the Jeep, Jackie said as she opened a different drawer to get underwear instead.

Come on, Jackie; it's a sign from God. He wants me to spend the night and make you breakfast in the morning, he replied.

He does work in mysterious ways, doesn't He? Jackie said as she stepped into her panties. "But maybe it's His way of telling you that you need a new battery.

How did you get back in, anyway? she asked him. I know I locked the door.

I knocked, but you must have already been in the shower, he replied. I used the hidden key you told me about when you asked me to water your plants a couple weeks ago.

"Well, obviously that's going to need a new place," she said, retrieving her slacks from the bathroom.

I don't get it, Jackie, he persisted. We've been dating for two months; we've enjoyed what I think is very pleasurable sex; why do you have this imaginary line drawn at sleeping over?

As she pulled on her pants, she replied, It just indicates a level of commitment—of exclusivity—that I'm not ready for, Jeff. You're just going to have to accept it whether you understand it or not.

A level of commitment with just me, or with anybody? Jeff asked.

Anyone, Jeff, she replied. I enjoy your company and I agree the sex is quite enjoyable, but …

You want to be able to play the field, he finished for her. I get that. A young, attractive, successful woman. You can probably …

I'm not playing the field, and I don't play games, Jeff, she cut him off with a little more edge to her voice than she really wanted. I'm flattered, but I don't want to be in a relationship, right now, with you or anyone else.

At that moment, as Jackie was pulling on a T-shirt, her cell phone started to ring on the bedside table.

You want me to answer that? Jeff asked completely undeterred by her reply. As he spoke, he turned in the phone's direction.

Touch it and you'll leave with your arm in a sling, she told him, heading toward the phone. She knew from the ring-tone it was the station.

Hall, here, she answered the phone while tugging up on Jeff's shirt to get him to a standing position.

Oh, shit! she said when Gail told her about Pamela. Okay, I'm on the way. Who else is there now?

As she listened, she pushed Jeff toward the doorway, no longer in anything resembling a playful mood. She made a quick detour to her closet for a shirt, and then herded him toward the kitchen.

Once again, she said, I'm on the way, to Gail, then hung up and dropped the phone in her pants pocket.

As she buttoned her shirt she explained to Jeff, Pamela Fletcher fell in her bathtub and nearly drowned. I have to go, so I'm afraid you're on your own with your car. You'll have to call somebody to jump you.

Oh, man, that sucks, Jeff said. Is she all right?

I don't know, Jackie said pushing him outside. The EMTs are there with her now.

Leaving Jeff standing in her driveway next to his car, Jackie pulled out and sped down the street.

As she drove, she said out loud, Seri, call Rowley Police. While the call went through, the Jeep went through a pothole, and the jostling made her realize that she wasn't wearing a bra. Oh, crud! she said to herself but decided not to go back to the house.

A few moments later the call was answered over the car speaker by Susan Belle, the swing-shift dispatcher. Susan's father, Bob Hardy, had been Rowley's first Chief of Police, and at that time her mother, Hilda, was the only dispatcher.

Rowley Police … oh, hi, Chief, Susan said with Jackie's name on her screen. Did they tell you about Pamela Fletcher?

Scott got there right after the EMTs, she replied. He said they took her in the ambulance, but she didn't look good. They were still bagging her and doing chest compressions.

Did he say if Harry went with them to the hospital? Jackie asked.

He said he did, Susan answered. I told Scott that Gail had called you, and he said he was going to wait there to hear from you.

Okay, thanks, Susan , Jackie said. I'll call Scott, right now, but I think I'm going to head to the hospital. If you hear anything from the hospital or the EMTs or anybody, call me right away.

Half a minute later, she was talking to Scott through the Jeep's speakers.

Hi, Chief. Are you on the way here? he asked her.

I was planning to drive over to the hospital unless you need me there, she replied. What does the scene look like? Did you take pictures?

It looks like someone was pulled out of the bathtub and was lying on the floor. There's water everywhere, he answered. She has a good size gash over her right eye, and there's blood on the edge of the tub where she hit. I have pictures of everything.

How much water is in the tub? she asked.

About half full, maybe, he said. But it's going down. The drain doesn't seal very well, apparently.

Go to the kitchen and find a Tupperware container or something and save a sample of the water before it's gone, she told him.

You suspect foul play? he asked, the surprise obvious in his voice.

Not in the least, Jackie said. "But insurance company investigators get paid to suspect that. I just want everything documented. In fact, shoot the whole house while you're there. Bedrooms, other bathrooms, kitchen, wastebaskets; pretend it is a crime scene."

Okay. Will do, he said. I was going to wipe up the water on the floor since I already have pictures of it. Is that okay? If it gets under the tile it's not going to be good for their floor.

Jackie thought for a moment, and then said, Is there any blood on the floor or in the water on the floor?

There was a pause while Jackie assumed he was looking, and then he answered, I don't see anything.

Okay, she said. Go ahead and wipe up the water. Good work, Scott. Thanks. I'll talk to you later.

She disconnected the phone and as she drove north toward Newburyport, she thought about the exchange she just had with her patrolman. Not only had he done good police work at the scene, considering he was a relative rooky, but he showed personal concern for Harry and Pamela by wanting to clean up their bathroom so the floor wouldn't warp. She really did like living in a small town.

Chapter 3

Thursday, July 8, 2021

When Jackie walked into the emergency room entrance at the Anna Jaques Hospital in Newburyport, she saw Harry standing and talking with a woman whom she took to be a doctor. They both looked very solemn, and a knot grew in her stomach.

As she approached, the doctor walked away leaving Harry standing there staring at the floor.

Harry, Jackie said softly. Are you okay?

He turned, looked at her vacantly, and then after a couple of focusing blinks, he said, She's dead.

Oh, God, Harry, I'm so sorry, Jackie said opening her arms to embrace him.

He closed his arms across her back, not really in an embrace but more as a perfunctory reaction to her hugging him.

Thanks, he said then opened his arms indicating the embrace was over. He looked at her, and added, I wasn't there for her. She drowned in her own fucking bathtub because I wanted to watch a movie I've seen a dozen times. Shit!

Don't blame yourself, Harry; it was an accident, she said knowing how cliché the words sounded even as they left her mouth. "From what I was told, you did everything right. Everything anyone could have done."

But it was all too late, he said. "The doctor just told me that things were probably irreversible before I started CPR on her … as if that was going to make me feel better somehow. He looked Jackie in the eyes with a hard stare, and said, She died in her bathtub while I was watching James-fucking-Bond!"

Just then a man in casual office attire rather than scrubs approached, and said, Are you the next of kin for Pamela Fletcher?

Harry looked at him and answered, I'm her husband, Harold.

On behalf of the hospital and the staff, please accept my deepest sympathies on your loss, Mr. Fletcher, the man said. My name is Robert Thomas. I'm a grief counselor and I just wanted you to know that there's somebody here to talk to if you feel the need. I can see that you're not alone, and that's a good thing, but if either of you needs me, here is my card.

As he handed each of them a business card with the hospital's logo, he added, I'm aware that it's a hard time, so if you'd like me to call someone to make arrangements to have your wife transported, I can do that for you, too.

Oh, God, Harry exhaled wearily. I hadn't even thought about that. Yes, if you wouldn't mind, could you call Robert's Funeral Home in Rowley? Tell them I'll call them tomorrow to talk about her, um … her services.

Absolutely, Mr. Fletcher. I'll take care of it, right away, Thomas said. Again, I know how traumatic a loss like this can be, so if you feel the need to talk at any time, please give me a call.

Thank you, Harry said as he extended his hand. I appreciate your condolences and your help, Mr. Thomas.

After shaking with Harry, Thomas extended his hand to Jackie, and said, Are you a friend or family member?

I'm Jacquelyn Hall. Rowley Chief of Police, she said.

Oh! he said in surprised reaction.

But I'm a friend of the family, she added. Thank you for your sympathy and your help, Mr. Thomas.

As Thomas walked away, Harry said, I guess I should get back home. There's a mess in the bathroom that needs to be cleaned up, and I've got a bunch of phone calls to dread making.

I told Scott Lain to mop up the water in the bathroom before he left your house, Jackie said. "I'd volunteer to make some of those phone calls for you, but I know that's something that only you can do.

But, you know, I can see how it might be … uncomfortable to spend the night at home tonight, she went on, so you're welcome to stay at my place if you'd like. I've got a guest room with its own bath. She immediately regretted mentioning the bath.

Thanks. I appreciate that, he said, but I think I'll be okay.

Well, if you think of anything else at all that you need, just call me.

I will, thanks, he said and gave her a more meaningful hug than the first.

Are you okay to drive home? she asked. I can give you a lift and come back tomorrow for your car.

No, really, I'm fine, he said. I'll need the time alone to figure out what the hell I'm going to tell people when I call them.

In the parking lot Jackie walked with Harry to his car, they hugged once more, and then she walked back to her Jeep.

She started it, and as she took the Rowley Police placard out of the windshield, she looked at her gas gauge. The tank was nearly empty. She had planned on getting gas on the way to the station in the morning, but now she was concerned that she might not make it home. A detour to a nearby gas station was about to make a long night a little longer.

Chapter 4

Thursday, July 8, 2021

As Jackie approached her house she could see Jeff's car still in her driveway. Closer still, and she could make him out sitting behind the wheel. She groaned out loud. She really didn't need to deal with him, right now.

When she pulled into her driveway, she realized that it wasn't Jeff's car, nor was it Jeff behind the wheel. It was Harry in his identical generic Toyota.

They both got out at the same time and met in front of Jackie's Jeep.

Are you okay, Harry? she asked.

Not as okay as I thought I was, he said. I had quite an attack of guilt on the drive home and I envisioned putting my .357 in my mouth when I got there and joining Pamela. I thought it might be better if I took you up on that offer of a spare bedroom.

Of course, Harry, she said. You're welcome to stay as long as you need; as long as you want.

Inside the house, she motioned for Harry to sit at the kitchen table, and asked, Do you want me to put on a pot of coffee? I have real or decaf.

Do you have anything stronger? Like ninety-proof, or so? he replied.

You just told me that you thought about sticking your gun in your mouth, she replied. I don't think alcohol is an advisable course of action.

Good point, he said. I knew I could count on you to be the straight and narrow voice of reason. I'll do decaf on the off, off chance that I might actually be able to fall asleep later.

As the coffee dripped through the filter, Jackie sat at the table, and said, I'm here if you want to talk, Harry, but I also have the names of a couple of grief counselors in my phone if you'd like someone more professional.

What the Christ am I going to tell her mother? he said as though he hadn't heard her speak. She's still alive but it'll probably kill her when I tell her I let her only daughter drown."

Having delivered tragic news to families as part of her job Jackie knew how hard finding the right words could be. Doing it if she felt guilty about the death was beyond comprehension.

I wish I could give you some advice on that, Harry, but that's way above my training. Those people that I mentioned could probably help you through it, though. She took out her phone, and said, I'll text you their information. It'll be there if you want it. What's your number?

She was glad when he recited the number, feeling that he was at least open to the idea of counseling.

"Oh, yeah. I need to call Roberts, too, and make all of the arrangements, he said wearily. I've never done this before. Pamela handled all that when my mother died. God, she was organized."

I'm sorry, Harry, she said. I won't pretend that I know how hard this is for you; the pain and the anguish is unimaginable for me. But if it'll make you feel better in any way, I'm ready to sit here and talk all night if you want. And if you feel like crying, I'll probably join you in that, too.

You want to take my statement? he said.

That's not what I'm talking about, she replied. I mean if you just …

You have to have an official statement from me sooner or later, right? he said.

Yes, but it doesn't have to be tonight. You can come into the station whenever you're …

I'd feel more comfortable here, he interrupted her. Maybe it will help to unravel the tangle in my head if I talk it all out. Maybe the objective logic can quell my emotional guilt.

Okay, if that's what you want, she said and picked up her phone. She swiped to the page with her recorder app, and said, Are you sure you want to do this, now? Because this will be official once we start. You can wait and do it in the morning if you want.

I'm sure, he said. It's not like I'm trying to hide anything.

Jackie got up and went to the coffee maker. Although it wasn't finished brewing there was enough for two partial cups.

Cream or sugar? she asked as she went to the fridge for half-and-half for herself.

Black, he replied, Thanks.

When she returned, she also brought a yellow legal pad and a pen.

Ready? she asked after he sipped his coffee.

Yup, he answered, and she tapped the record button on her phone.

This is Chief of the Rowley Police, Inspector Jacquelyn Hall, she began. "I am in the kitchen of my residence with Harold Fletcher, husband of the recently deceased Pamela Armstrong Fletcher. It is 11:34 on the evening of July 8, 2021.

"Mr. Fletcher has requested that an official statement regarding the death of his wife be taken and is aware that this conversation is being recorded.

"It is my obligation to inform you before you start, Mr. Fletcher, that you have the right to have an attorney present during this statement, and that anything you say can and will be used in legal proceedings if they should come to pass.

If the preceding statements are correct, if you understand your rights as I've explained them, and if you have declined to have an attorney present, please state your full name and acknowledge those facts.

My name is Harold Eldred Fletcher, he began. "I live at 55 Weldon Farm Road, in Rowley, Mass. Zip code is 01969.

I am aware that this is being recorded and I am giving this statement of my own free will without an attorney present. I understand that anything I say can be used against me in court.

Thank you, Mr. Fletcher, Jackie said. How would you like to proceed? Would you like me to ask you questions or would you prefer to simply state the facts as you recall and understand them?

I think I'd like to just tell you all that happened tonight, and then, if you feel there are any blanks, you can ask questions, he replied.

Understood, she said. Please begin whenever you're ready.

Pamela and I sat down to dinner about 6:30 or so, he began. "It was pot-roast. That took maybe a half-hour. We watched the news while we were eating; we always do that.

After we finished eating we cleaned up the kitchen. Pamela's a great cook, but certainly not the neatest. Pots, pans, and dishes everywhere. That was probably another half hour or so.

Jackie found it interesting that Harry referred to his wife in the present tense, not the past tense. Had the reality—the finality—that she was gone not sunken in, yet?

He went on, "She went into the den to check her email and Facebook and stuff, and I went into the living room to watch a movie.

"Last night I'd gotten done with a couple of chapters in the book I'm working on, so I wanted to get away from it—kind of purge my mind of the story before I went back and did a read-through and edit.

"I decided to watch From Russia with Love, which I've probably seen a dozen times. Sean Connery is the only true James Bond in my opinion, and the movie has what I think is the best fight scene ever filmed when he and Robert Shaw go at it on the train.

Sorry. I'm sure that's irrelevant, Harry said with a little shake of his head as if to get his thoughts back into alignment. "Anyway, Pamela came in about a half-hour later and said she was going upstairs to take a bath. While I had the movie paused I went to take a potty break in the downstairs bath. I heard the water in the tub running upstairs when I got back, but once I started the movie again it drowned out everything else. I had taken my hearing aids out and I had the volume turned up a bit.

It wasn't until a little after 9:30, I think, that I turned off the TV. I was going to go in and check my email and things, but I heard the water still running. Actually, I thought it was running, again, and she was warming up the water, but then it occurred to me that that would have put her in the water for an hour and a half. She likes long baths, but that would be extreme, even for her. Something told me to go up and see if everything was all right.

He stopped talking and just looked down at the table while fidgeting with his coffee cup but not drinking.

Would you like to stop for a few minutes? Jackie asked.

He blew out a long breath, and said, "No. Let's get this done.

When I went into the bathroom, she was facedown in the tub, he said. "It was full up to the overflow and the water was still running. I yelled her name and I grabbed her and lifted her head up out of the water, but she didn't move at all; she was just limp. It scared the shit out of me.

"I held her head up and I got my hand under her arm and I rolled her out of the tub and onto the floor. She wasn't breathing and I listened to her heart and there was nothing. I thought I was going to throw up.

"We had taken a CPR class at the fire department once, a few years ago, so I gave her some chest compressions and then a couple of rescue breaths, but she didn't react at all. Nothing. That's when I ran and got my phone to call 911.

"I kept the compressions and breaths going until the EMTs got there. Well, actually I had to stop and use my phone to unlock the front door, but I went right back to working on her—trying to get her to breathe—trying to get her heart to beat until they told me to back away.

"While they were working on her, Rowley Police Officer Scott Lain showed up. I remember him talking to me but I have no recollection of what he said. When they took her away in the ambulance, he said I could follow them if I wanted and that he'd lock up the house.

"Ten or fifteen minutes later—after I got to the hospital—they told me that she hadn't made it. She never regained consciousness.

That's about the time that you showed up, so I guess that's the end of my statement unless you have any questions.

Thank you, Mr. Fletcher, Jackie said. I do have a few questions. Looking at the notes she'd taken as he spoke, she asked, Did you or Pamela consume any alcohol prior to the accident?

We each had a glass of wine with dinner, he answered. We almost always do.

Just one?

One each, yes.

About how large of a glass?

Oh, probably a six once pour, I'd guess, he replied. About what you'd get in a restaurant.

Any more alcohol after dinner? Jackie asked.

No. Neither of us. We almost never do. We're not heavy drinkers.

From what you said you would have started watching the movie about 7:30, is that correct? she asked.

About that, I'd say, he answered. I don't recall looking at a clock. I'm kind of guessing at how long we were eating and cleaning up.

That's fine, she said. Do you recall where you paused the movie when Pamela went upstairs and you went to the bathroom? I'm just trying to establish a timeline.

Good point, he said. It was during the shootout at the gypsy camp. Are you familiar with the movie?

I've seen it maybe twice over the years, she said. I do remember the gypsy-camp scene.

She wrote, Gypsy camp next to the note on her sheet, and then asked, When did you notice that she was bleeding? Was there blood in the water when you found her?

He didn't reply right away, and Jackie watched him as he thought about it. Finally, he answered, I don't remember seeing any blood. When I lifted her head I recall being surprised by the cut above her eye, but thinking back on it, now, it wasn't bleeding. He looked at Jackie, and said, It should have been, shouldn't it? He blinked a couple of times, processing that information, and then said, She was already dead, wasn't she? He let out a sad sigh, and added, I never had a chance to bring her back, did I? Shit! How long had I left her lying in the water?

There's no way you could have known she'd had an accident, and you did exactly the right things when you discovered her, Jackie said. If she could have been brought back, what you just told me that you did was how to do it.

Christ, he said with a sorrowful shake of his head. Can we be done with this now?

Sure, Harry, she said. I just have one other question here. When did you turn off the water in the tub?

Again, he thought, and after a few moments, he said, I don't remember doing it exactly. It's one of those single-handle fixtures, so I might have just reached over and hit it off when I first went to her. Maybe when I left her to go get my cell phone. I really don't remember.

It's okay, Jackie said. It's not critical. I was just curious. She then added, "If you feel this is a complete and accurate statement, and there's nothing you'd like to