on. He gave the room another once over, and then it became clear. He galloped toward the pictures on the nightstand. A photograph behind a phone burned into his view. He grabbed it and saw a man smiling with a bubbly woman in his arms. He took a moment to assess the female, and then realized the animated woman was the same lifeless body alone in Nurse Ann’s care.
“Jane Doe!” he exclaimed.
He was baffled by how an attractive and vivacious woman who radiated from a piece of glossy paper could transform into an inanimate object with a grim future. He studied the good-looking man holding the woman. The man looked content and blissful as he embraced her. Det. Cleveland took a moment to put himself in the shoes of the photographer. The couple stood in front of the gigantic Hoover Dam, proud to share the moment together. A pair of birds soared in the blue sky above them. Then, Det. Cleveland shifted his eyes toward the bottom of the picture and saw written, “Roger and his Dynamite Lois.”
Det. Cleveland grabbed the picture frame. He received the burning answer to his question of Jane Doe’s identity. She was Lois Belkin, wife to Roger Belkin of One Thirty Three Dietrich Road. He thought about Roger, a family man who lived in a perfect house in a perfect neighborhood, and wondered where this seemingly perfect man was at this moment. He wished he could tell him where his wife was and how to see her, but he could not do that at the moment. Det. Cleveland set the picture down and headed out of the room, eager to get this newly acquired information to those who needed it.
13
The purr of the tractor-trailer rhythmically rocked the powerful beast. The V-12 diesel was low, hypnotic, and enough to put someone to sleep, which was exactly what had happened to Roger. Jack glanced over and saw the weary man’s head tilted and his eyes closed. His mouth was slightly open, and his chest swayed with each breath. He wondered about Roger.
“Where did this man come from?” he asked himself under his breath, but then he thought about the unwritten rule of the road—a traveler’s past should remain his past without judgment.
While Roger appeared peaceful sitting on the urine-stained vinyl seat, his mind was under duress. It saw vivid, disjointed images juxtaposed in a way that created a trapped world of terror. Roger was back at the serene lake sitting on a blanket with the love of his life. Birds chirped in the flowing trees and the warm sun glistened off the placid lake. Roger felt protected as the lucid image of Lois made this dream worth experiencing, but again, he was paralyzed. He could see his wife in perfect clarity, her soft hair, spongy skin, and innocent smile, but as he tried to reach out and touch her, his hand failed to respond. Lois grabbed a small hors d’oeuvre and took a dainty bite. As the image soothed Roger’s senses, his wife reached into the basket and unearthed two sparkling glasses. She grasped a bottle of deep red wine and, while Roger couldn’t see the label, he knew it was Lambrusco. Lois poured two glasses and handed one to Roger, a spectator in his own dream. Both tipped glasses with a “tink” and sipped the ripened wine. Roger felt powerless by not having physical control of his body. However, the image of the woman he had so desperately craved was all that mattered. He gazed into her brown eyes, which glimmered in the sun like a fresh pile of autumn leaves. Just as his focus was on the perfect image of his college sweetheart, clouds quickly stole the sunlight from her face. Light became dark, bright became dim, and life became death as the sky rapidly grew into a morose mess. Thunder crashed and a bolt of lightning electrified the water. Roger trembled. He tried to speak, to move, and even to look away, but he was forced to endure the terrifying experience. Lois’ smile turned into a frown. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows heightened as her expression changed into a look of
“Jane Doe!” he exclaimed.
He was baffled by how an attractive and vivacious woman who radiated from a piece of glossy paper could transform into an inanimate object with a grim future. He studied the good-looking man holding the woman. The man looked content and blissful as he embraced her. Det. Cleveland took a moment to put himself in the shoes of the photographer. The couple stood in front of the gigantic Hoover Dam, proud to share the moment together. A pair of birds soared in the blue sky above them. Then, Det. Cleveland shifted his eyes toward the bottom of the picture and saw written, “Roger and his Dynamite Lois.”
Det. Cleveland grabbed the picture frame. He received the burning answer to his question of Jane Doe’s identity. She was Lois Belkin, wife to Roger Belkin of One Thirty Three Dietrich Road. He thought about Roger, a family man who lived in a perfect house in a perfect neighborhood, and wondered where this seemingly perfect man was at this moment. He wished he could tell him where his wife was and how to see her, but he could not do that at the moment. Det. Cleveland set the picture down and headed out of the room, eager to get this newly acquired information to those who needed it.
13
The purr of the tractor-trailer rhythmically rocked the powerful beast. The V-12 diesel was low, hypnotic, and enough to put someone to sleep, which was exactly what had happened to Roger. Jack glanced over and saw the weary man’s head tilted and his eyes closed. His mouth was slightly open, and his chest swayed with each breath. He wondered about Roger.
“Where did this man come from?” he asked himself under his breath, but then he thought about the unwritten rule of the road—a traveler’s past should remain his past without judgment.
While Roger appeared peaceful sitting on the urine-stained vinyl seat, his mind was under duress. It saw vivid, disjointed images juxtaposed in a way that created a trapped world of terror. Roger was back at the serene lake sitting on a blanket with the love of his life. Birds chirped in the flowing trees and the warm sun glistened off the placid lake. Roger felt protected as the lucid image of Lois made this dream worth experiencing, but again, he was paralyzed. He could see his wife in perfect clarity, her soft hair, spongy skin, and innocent smile, but as he tried to reach out and touch her, his hand failed to respond. Lois grabbed a small hors d’oeuvre and took a dainty bite. As the image soothed Roger’s senses, his wife reached into the basket and unearthed two sparkling glasses. She grasped a bottle of deep red wine and, while Roger couldn’t see the label, he knew it was Lambrusco. Lois poured two glasses and handed one to Roger, a spectator in his own dream. Both tipped glasses with a “tink” and sipped the ripened wine. Roger felt powerless by not having physical control of his body. However, the image of the woman he had so desperately craved was all that mattered. He gazed into her brown eyes, which glimmered in the sun like a fresh pile of autumn leaves. Just as his focus was on the perfect image of his college sweetheart, clouds quickly stole the sunlight from her face. Light became dark, bright became dim, and life became death as the sky rapidly grew into a morose mess. Thunder crashed and a bolt of lightning electrified the water. Roger trembled. He tried to speak, to move, and even to look away, but he was forced to endure the terrifying experience. Lois’ smile turned into a frown. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows heightened as her expression changed into a look of
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