Blind Love
A double murder in my small hometown of Love was not something I ever thought I’d have to deal with as the chief of police, let alone one of them being committed by my own grandmother.
Trixie may not be my grandma by blood, but she was in every other way that counted, and that’s what mattered to me.
“Excuse me, sir. Can you please tell me what the police plan to do about Beatrice Hart?”
“No comment.” We didn’t plan to do anything about Trixie, but I was so sick of the media pestering every corner of my town, I hoped they would start to leave with the lack of information.
Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case so far.
There had been more cameras and news crews lining Main Street than I could even begin to fathom.
Even though it had been four months since my best friend’s wife, Stella, had been kidnapped by her crazy ex and then saved by Trixie, the media had not let up.
A double murder in a small town called Love was just too good of a headline to pass up.
I could feel my normally calm demeanor slipping. It usually took quite a lot to get me to this point, but it felt like every day of the last two months had been living on edge, and I was hitting my tipping point.
“Daphne, I’m heading out on my break,” I said to our front desk clerk as I walked toward the main door of the police station. I didn’t even glance at the reporter as she tried to ask me something else. “I have my radio if you need anything.”
“You got it, sweet cheeks,” she responded with her infamous wink.
She was much better at handling our media coverage anyway.
Well, what little of it we usually had. This magnitude was new to all of us, but thankfully, Daphne seemed to be taking it all in stride.
It was like she was in her element when it came to stuff like this.
At least that made one of us.
You would think the added people in our small town would increase some of the profit of our small businesses, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.
The reporters only chased away our regulars, and then they ended up being angry at the lack of cell service so would always retreat to their accommodations along the main highway.
It was like they needed to recharge themselves with the use of the internet.
The sweet springtime breeze was a relief after the stuffiness of the police station with all the reporters inside.
I finally wiped the scowl off my face as I walked the block to Main Street and made my way to Cupid’s Cup.
A sweet treat from there would be a welcome distraction today, not to mention seeing Melody.
No matter how hard I tried, and though I’d never act on it, there was just something about my best friend’s sister that always made me want to linger a little longer in her presence.
When we were kids, she had been given the nickname Hurricane Mel.
She would leave a disturbance in her wake everywhere she went.
She was always the centre of attention, the biggest performance, but just like the lack of hurricanes we got on the prairies, she felt completely elusive to me. An absolute phenomenon.
“Get the FUCK out of my store!” I could hear Melody’s strong and powerful voice before I had even pulled open the door of her coffee shop.
Two pebbly-faced teenagers clutching their backpacks plowed toward the doorway as I held it open. As the one in front caught notice of my uniform, his face paled as he looked up at me and stumbled, causing his friend behind him to crash into him.
I caught them both by their sweaters before they fell to the ground.
“Everything okay here, Mel?” My question may have been directed at her but I didn’t take my eyes off the two boys who had made Melody’s anger rise.
Granted, it didn’t usually take much with her fiery personality, but I still wasn’t going to stand for it.
“Yep,” she replied with a pop of the p. “They were just leaving. Isn’t that right, boys?”
“Yeah, come on, man,” said the blond kid who bumped into his friend from behind, that one was still lacking colour to his complexion. “We can get the deets on this story somewhere else.”
I let go of their sweaters but waited until they rounded the corner to turn back to Melody. “What was all that about?”
“Just some kids wanting an interview for their true crime podcast.” The anger rolled off her just as easily and second nature as the eye roll she gave.
I couldn’t remember a time I hadn’t seen that eye roll, and it would have brought a familiar smirk to my face, too, if not for reading the title on the newspaper she held in her hands.
“What the hell?” I growled as I grabbed it from her, reading the headline that was front and center in big bold letters.
Sweet Granny…Savage Killer! Love Rocked by Double Homicide!
“Hey, careful with that,” Melody said, grabbing the paper back from my hands.
“Careful?” I wanted to tear it to shreds. The headline made it sound like Trixie was a cold-blooded killer.
Just then the bell on the door chimed as someone entered Cupid’s Cup.
“Speak of the devil.” Melody’s face lit with a smile that could have blinded me, and I turned to see Trixie standing in the doorway.
A smile that mirrored Melody’s was on her face, but her outfit was even brighter now that the springtime weather had graced the prairies again.
Trixie’s floral-patterned dresses were her favourite, and that style had worn off on Stella.
Those two had become like two peas in a pod since she had found her way to Love.
“Trixie, what are you doing here?” I asked. “There’s reporters crawling the streets.”
“I know!” She beamed in response. “Isn’t it great? It’s like I’m famous.”
I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped me then. If I had been shocked when the anger rolled off Melody after the visit of those two teenage boys, I shouldn’t have been. She learned that sort of demeanor from Trixie. A professional at feeling unbothered by any of life’s speed bumps.
“Look what I saved for you,” Melody said while handing Trixie the newspaper she held.
I itched to take it from her. I didn’t want Trixie to see it and couldn’t understand why Melody was willingly showing it to her.
“Ooh, goodie, another one? What’s this one say?” She grabbed the newspaper from Melody, and I held my breath as her eyes scanned the front page.
I waited for her brow to furrow, for her to get upset or angry or anything besides the laugh that burst out of her. She wiped at her tears, and I eyed Melody, who silently giggled beside her.
“You’re not upset?” I asked them both.
“Upset?” Trixie asked, shocked. “Not at all! I’m going to frame this and hang it up right next to the other one that says From Knitting Needles to Killing Fields: Granny’s Gruesome Slaying.”
I was grateful I didn’t have any of Melody’s coffee in my mouth at that point as I would have spit it out all over the place. The media was ruthless.
“Well, I’m glad those reporters aren’t bothering you like they seem to be everyone else in this town,” I said to Trixie as I looked around at Melody’s nearly empty coffee shop. It was almost lunch time, and it was unusual for there to not be a rush at this time.
I looked to Mel, expecting to see some sort of uncertainty in her expression, but I should have known better. It would take a hell of a lot more than this to get any member of the Hart family down.
Melody looked like she was about to say something, but just then static came through my radio, followed by Daphne’s voice. “Officer Wayne? We’ve had a call come in for a wellness check.”
“Yeah, I’m here, Daphne. Go ahead,” I responded into my radio as I turned away from Melody and Trixie, giving them a friendly wave as I headed for the door.
“The address is 316 Willow Avenue. The neighbour just called and said they’ve been hearing a child crying consistently for the past two hours and they’ve tried knocking on the door with no answer.”
My steps faltered and my breath caught. It felt like the life had been sucked out of me.
“Patrick?” I could hear Melody’s voice, I could feel her hand on my back, but I couldn’t comprehend it. Not until I knew for certain.
“Daphne, I’m going to need you to repeat that address.”
“316 Willow Avenue.”
Fuck. My son.