town, looking a lot more refreshed than I felt, I headed over to Sam’s for my morning cup of coffee, but Sam hadn’t seen Jack that morning either. I got my coffee to go, and asked Sam to have Jack call if he should see him. Sam assured me he wouldn’t need to tell Jack, that he was sure I’d be hearing from him soon.
The coffee and the morning drive revived me. I needed to focus on the day ahead. I had spoken with the Dunlap’s on many occasions, and knew the homes I had selected were exactly what they were looking for. All were near where they would be working, and all fit exactly what their expressed needs were. I had made videos for them when I previewed homes, and we narrowed it down to three. They were excited to find their new place, and I couldn’t let what was going on in my life affect their special time.
I tried to call Jack on my drive into Denver, but it kept going to voicemail. How could he stay away like this? The enjoyment of seeing Marge after almost a month, and the arrival of the Dunlaps shortly thereafter, took my mind off Jack and wondering why he wouldn’t even answer his phone.
The Cherry Creek area of Denver was expensive and well-kept. Some brightly colored leaves still clung to the trees in their autumn glory in spite of the recent snow. The colors and the crisp air and the sun made the time seem idyllic for house hunting.
They liked the first two houses, but had I saved the best for last. The elderly lady who owned it was no longer able to live alone, and her children had put her in a nursing home. They were selling it at a greatly reduced price to get it sold in a hurry. I knew how much they had liked the others, but this, I was confident, would be a perfect fit for them. I couldn’t wait to show them.
As we pulled into the driveway, a man ran out of the front door. I knew something was wrong and took note of his license number as he hopped in his car and sped off. Feeling uneasy, I advised the Dunlaps to stay in the car until I had checked out the situation.
Mr. Dunlap would have none of it, and accompanied me to the front door which was standing open. The first thing that registered was the amount of what appeared to be blood on the entryway walls and floor. I pulled my gun from my thigh holster and saw the shock register on Mr. Dunlap’s face.
“I’m a marksman,” I said in a whisper. “Here are my keys. Please go back to the car and call 911. Have them send an ambulance.” After hesitating only a moment, he went to make sure his wife stayed put, and made the emergency call.
I knew I should wait, but what if the person who was bleeding was still alive? I needed to act quickly. I removed my heels and tip-toed into the main room. I had been here before and knew the layout of the house. I listened intently, but could hear no sounds.
When I was confident that no one remained on the first floor, I followed the trail of blood up the stairs, gun drawn, nerves controlled, hoping beyond hope that I was not too late.
The trail of blood led straight to the closet in the master bedroom at the top of the stairs. Making sure my back was protected, I called out, but no one answered. I crept quietly towards the door and yanked it open. What I found left my stomach heaving.
An older woman was lying on the floor, cowering with her hands covering her head. Clothes torn, blood everywhere, she whispered, “Please don’t hurt me.”
“It's okay, it's okay. I’m here to help you. Don’t be afraid. Who did this to you?” I whispered, panic from my own ordeal trying to crowd my mind. I wouldn’t allow it.
“There was a man here,” the woman said faintly. “He must have heard you pull up because all of a sudden he stopped and ran away." She started to cry. I comforted her and told her everything was going to be okay.
Visions of Jason kept clouding my brain. At first I wanted to scream, but understanding what she was going through gave me resolve to share my hard-won strength
The coffee and the morning drive revived me. I needed to focus on the day ahead. I had spoken with the Dunlap’s on many occasions, and knew the homes I had selected were exactly what they were looking for. All were near where they would be working, and all fit exactly what their expressed needs were. I had made videos for them when I previewed homes, and we narrowed it down to three. They were excited to find their new place, and I couldn’t let what was going on in my life affect their special time.
I tried to call Jack on my drive into Denver, but it kept going to voicemail. How could he stay away like this? The enjoyment of seeing Marge after almost a month, and the arrival of the Dunlaps shortly thereafter, took my mind off Jack and wondering why he wouldn’t even answer his phone.
The Cherry Creek area of Denver was expensive and well-kept. Some brightly colored leaves still clung to the trees in their autumn glory in spite of the recent snow. The colors and the crisp air and the sun made the time seem idyllic for house hunting.
They liked the first two houses, but had I saved the best for last. The elderly lady who owned it was no longer able to live alone, and her children had put her in a nursing home. They were selling it at a greatly reduced price to get it sold in a hurry. I knew how much they had liked the others, but this, I was confident, would be a perfect fit for them. I couldn’t wait to show them.
As we pulled into the driveway, a man ran out of the front door. I knew something was wrong and took note of his license number as he hopped in his car and sped off. Feeling uneasy, I advised the Dunlaps to stay in the car until I had checked out the situation.
Mr. Dunlap would have none of it, and accompanied me to the front door which was standing open. The first thing that registered was the amount of what appeared to be blood on the entryway walls and floor. I pulled my gun from my thigh holster and saw the shock register on Mr. Dunlap’s face.
“I’m a marksman,” I said in a whisper. “Here are my keys. Please go back to the car and call 911. Have them send an ambulance.” After hesitating only a moment, he went to make sure his wife stayed put, and made the emergency call.
I knew I should wait, but what if the person who was bleeding was still alive? I needed to act quickly. I removed my heels and tip-toed into the main room. I had been here before and knew the layout of the house. I listened intently, but could hear no sounds.
When I was confident that no one remained on the first floor, I followed the trail of blood up the stairs, gun drawn, nerves controlled, hoping beyond hope that I was not too late.
The trail of blood led straight to the closet in the master bedroom at the top of the stairs. Making sure my back was protected, I called out, but no one answered. I crept quietly towards the door and yanked it open. What I found left my stomach heaving.
An older woman was lying on the floor, cowering with her hands covering her head. Clothes torn, blood everywhere, she whispered, “Please don’t hurt me.”
“It's okay, it's okay. I’m here to help you. Don’t be afraid. Who did this to you?” I whispered, panic from my own ordeal trying to crowd my mind. I wouldn’t allow it.
“There was a man here,” the woman said faintly. “He must have heard you pull up because all of a sudden he stopped and ran away." She started to cry. I comforted her and told her everything was going to be okay.
Visions of Jason kept clouding my brain. At first I wanted to scream, but understanding what she was going through gave me resolve to share my hard-won strength
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