Love is...Blind Read online

“I had hoped that Vicky would help her mature, but that didn't happen. I've even tried to go against the grain and give her space, but that did not change the outcome. She has gone and moved to one of the worst neighborhoods in town. You used to go there answering domestic abuse calls on a weekly basis. Yes, that is where she has chosen to move. Who knows who her next boyfriend is going to be. I am afraid for Vicky. Every man she brings home is worse than the one before. I have tried introducing her to good men I have become acquainted with through church or through work, but she won't hear of it. 

  Today I got so angry when I found out she had already moved, that I lost my grip on my coffee and my cup slipped out of my hand. Oh! Chase, why did you have to die. I did not have good parents. I did not know how to do it. Oh! Chase, I am afraid for your daughter, but I am even more afraid for Vicky's safety. Please watch over them from heaven, as no matter how hard I tried, I've seemed to be doing it wrong.

 

  Ivonne woke to the sound of the phone. 

  “Hello”

  “Hi sweet heart.”

  “Chase?”

  “Ivonne! Chase is dead. When are you going to stop?”

  “Oh, Ken, hi.”

  The Lord will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

  Psalm 121:7-8 

 

  Chapter 4

 

  Jerome Parker was one of the few people in the office who did not dislike the secretary. Every morning, he made sure to approach her and greet her. He did not know her circumstances, and chose to be friendly. Today, though, he was surprised when she was not at her usual place. 

  In the three years he had worked with Ivonne, not once had she been sick or even late to work. Well, good for her. Everybody needed a mental health day once in a while. Besides, the other agents in the office needed to realize how much they depended on her.

  He knew that no one at the office cared for her, but he did. In his opinion, the job had sucked the joy of living out of her just as it was doing to him. He had transferred from the local police department because the money was better, but he was beginning to realize that the extra money was not worth it. 

   No one in the office seemed to be friendly or helpful, and even though Ivonne was not friendly, she was efficient. Her work ethics made his life so much better. She was reliable and organized. She always completed her tasks to perfection and in a timely manner, and in the last three years she had never taken a day off. 

  Although, she was a difficult person to get to like, as she always pouted and grumbled at any task placed in front of her, he enjoyed teasing her and was usually rewarded by a beautiful blush and a smile.

  Their supervisor, so busy with his own ego, ignored the needs of the office and the agents. He ignored the minor problems until they became monumental and they were impossible to fix. He had not even noticed his secretary missing until he had needed a file. Everyone knew that without Ivonne, the boss would drown in his own stupidity and carelessness. The only thing that the boss had going for himself was that he had connections in high places. 

  When Jerome had come into his office to discuss a problem on one of his cases, the boss had looked at him. The boss's eyes were shadowed; his hands were moving piles of papers from one side to the next, and opening and closing drawers. He had no idea what to do without his assistant. Jerome wanted to laugh at the confusion he was seeing, but was too polite to do so.

  “Have you seen the Chavez's file?” The boss asked.

  “I put it on your desk three weeks ago for you to sign. No I have not seen it since then.”

  “Is Ivonne at her desk, yet?”

  “No, I just came from there. She didn't ask for the day off?”

  The boss looked up at him, eyes lost in the distance. Unfortunately, the confusion only lasted a second, because he immediately cleared his head, and saw Jerome anew. It was as if the light bulb turned on. Wham! Just like that, he became the go boy. Even though he was drowning in paperwork himself and had more than his share of cases open, the boss had sent him to find out Ivonne's whereabouts. When he had tried to refuse, the boss had done what he did best... He had ordered him to go and check on her. He did not mind getting out of the office, but he was overwhelmed with the amount of work, and the US Attorney was demanding the paperwork be completed. It was a good thing he did not have family or commitments because lately he found himself working evenings and weekends. Every time he thought he had made a dent in his caseload, they would assign him a few extra cases just to make sure he did not have the time to socialize and meet someone. 

  He did not mind the extra work. He just minded that there were other people in the office who could have their weekends and evenings ruined as well. He was almost thirty, single and completely unattached. He made a six-figure salary and had no one to spend it with. He wanted to have what his best friend and old partner had: a wife, kids and perhaps a pet or two. He wanted to have a reason to come home at the end of the day and he wanted to look forward to weekends at home; instead, to avoid loneliness, he looked for any excuse to come to the office and work.

  Well, he was here now. The house was maybe fifteen hundred square feet, surrounded by well-manicured grass, with a few rose bushes surrounding the house, as well as other assortment of colorful plants. It looked nice. Somehow, he could not picture Ivonne with a girly garden like this one. There was a lot more to this woman than she ever let anyone know. He wondered what was Ivonne's story? She never talked to anyone. She never smiled. Did she have a family? A husband, or perhaps children? The one thing he knew for a fact was that for the last three years since he had been transferred to this office, she had not taken a day off and had not even been late to the office, not ever. It was a wonder people had not noticed her absence today.

  He walked slowly looking around the house, paying attention to every detail that would let him see who the real Ivonne was. He walked to the door. It was ajar, but the house was dark and silent. He unclipped his holster, and slowly pushed the door open all the way. The smell was nauseating. He used his left arm to cover his mouth and nose. He looked around and everything at first glance looked neat and clean. The smell, where was it coming from? He flipped the light switch on, and walked in. The first thing he noticed was that nothing looked out of the ordinary. The door opened to the living room area. There was a floral sofa and pink recliner, both facing the small television. The kitchen was to the left. It was tidy, no dirty dishes, not even a dirty spoon or a used coffee cup were in the sink. Toward the back of the kitchen was a round table with four chairs.

  He looked behind the table to the back door and noticed that the handle had brown stains. If it weren’t for the smell, they could pass for finger paint. He looked around and saw similar stains on the floor coming from the hallway to the left. He took one more look around the kitchen and noticed some stains on the wall. They seemed to be part of the wallpaper pattern, but then he realized that it was something else. Some form of liquid, coffee or tea perhaps. Did someone decide to spray the whole place with whatever liquid that was? He was not ready to call it blood yet. He was not ready to get the kit yet. He looked at the hallway, where the smell was coming from, and then back at the rest of the house.

  A child lived here, one of the chairs had a booster seat. There were also pictures on the wall of a younger version of Ivonne and her child. He ignored the stains, knowing they were not going anywhere and he needed to prepare himself mentally for what he knew was coming next. His brain kept screaming the word blood, but he chose to ignore what he knew was next. He approached the pictures and looked closely at the details instead. The woman could be Ivonne herself, as the young woman resembled the older version he knew, though Ivonne's eyes were hard. This younger version had laughing eyes. She seemed carefree. The young child in the picture was most likely the owner of the booster seat. 

  The place looked neat if he compared it to h
is home, but it seemed too clean for a home with a kid. Of course, the kid could just come to visit, but if this child was a regular visitor, shouldn't there be toys around? He had no reference to kids other than his sister’s home, which had toys everywhere- one of the many things that drove him crazy every time he visited. The noise and the mess made him feel discouraged and confused. As much as he longed for a family, he knew that for him, singleness was best.

  He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a stranger's home, a house he walked in for the first time, not one he expected to see. It was obvious he knew nothing of Ivonne's private life. As he had no idea there was a child in her life. The odd thing about it though was that the only indication a child had lived in this house was the booster seat. Nothing else.

  To the right of the living area was a small hallway, also dark. After looking around one more time for anything he might have missed, he went to check it out. He wanted to hear something; anything that would let him know that Ivonne had just forgotten to close the door, but all there was was silence and that awful smell that was getting stronger as he walked toward the dark hallway. He knew what it was. He had smelled it before. He was just not ready to see it. Who was he kidding? He would never be ready to see what was producing the smell. The silence was grating on his nerves. He prayed it was not the child. Somehow that always made it worse. 

  There were three doors, two of them were closed, he assumed that the one in the middle was a bathroom and the other two were bedrooms. He called out Ivonne's name, but there was no response. He found the light switch on the left wall of the hallway and turned it on. Nothing. Either the bulb had burned out or someone had tampered with the lights. He grabbed his flashlight. 

  He stood still for a second, deciding on where to go next. There was something not quite right in here, and he had to check the three rooms before he called his boss. 

  He walked sideways toward the door that was open, not losing sight of the two closed doors. He peeked around the corner, making sure that no white-masked men jumped out at him. Somehow, thinking of his favorite scary movies comforted him. This room was a bedroom. The bed was made. There were clothes on the bed as if someone, getting ready to change, had placed them there. He was surprised that they were not work clothes, but shorts and a tank top. Funny, he could never have imagined Ivonne in relaxed attire. She always wore her hair in a tight bun, and her clothing consisted of dark suits that made her seem to be in constant mourning. He scanned the room quickly, never losing sight of the closed doors on the other side. Somehow he knew this was her room. The room reflected her stern personality. It was austere and devoid of any decor. Somehow the clothes on the bed bothered him. That was definitely not her style. The furniture was dark mahogany. There were a couple of pieces of makeup on top of the dresser, but nothing else. He was not married, but his limited experience with the female population had shown him that women used a lot more makeup than what was visible in this room. He was a bachelor, but he had sisters and had never seen their dressers clean of all the junk they used. Their junk, or valuables as they like to call it, varied from makeup to jewelry. Their mirror was a display case for all their pictures from one end to the other. It was hard to see one's own reflection. This room felt unused, or worse, it felt like a prison cell.

  He walked to the door at the other end of the hallway. He opened the door slowly. The room was empty and did not match the rest of the house. It was untidy and in need of vacuuming. There were some children's toys on the floor and a pile of dirty clothes on the left corner farthest from the door. This room seemed to him like a normal room, even if it did not have furniture. 

  He eyed the last closed door one more time, wishing that this task had fallen on someone else. He knew he had to open it, but dreaded the task. Knowing what was waiting for him on the other side, he hoped it wasn't so - that horrible odor was unmistakable. Very slowly, holding his gun in his right hand, he turned the knob with his left hand. It was not locked.

  Finding the room dark, he tried the light switch and nothing happened. He moved his flashlight from one end of the small room to the other. Blood covered every surface in the room, especially the floor. He saw the curtain and carefully approached it, making sure not to disturb anything. The smell intensified to a perfect stench when he pulled the curtain open and he let go of the air he had been holding in so determinedly.

  Even though he was expecting something awful, he was still shocked at the sight. The blood had splattered all over the wall, the floor, the ceiling, even the door. The grotesque scene was worse than any he had seen in the past. Who could have done this? Poor Ivonne! He needed to get out and breathe. It was time to call the boss, but before that he would call Tom Kincaid. There was not a better detective in the area.

  Commit to the Lord whatever you do,
    and he will establish your plans.

  Proverbs 16:3

 

  Chapter 5

 

  Josie made a list of everything she had to get from her mother's house. She had emptied several of the boxes between yesterday and this morning and had not found her laptop. As a teacher, her laptop was her best friend. She had learned to rely on her laptop for her daily tasks and because of this she needed to go back to her mother's house and get it. If she planned it just right, she could be in and out of there before her mother made it home. She really wasn't strong enough for another confrontation right now and knew that she would not be able to keep her mouth closed if her mother started belittling her again. She had decided not to fight anymore and decided she would do everything in her power to avoid anything that would cause her guilt. She was done with the guilt.

  It was easy to motivate herself while she was awake, but last night she had woken up with a terrible nightmare. It had truly been horrific. 

  Her mother was there, dressed in red tights and a red snuggly shirt that was two sizes too small, laughing at her. She even had horns and a tail and was holding Josie’s sweet baby. Her mother looked beautiful wearing anything, but in her nightmare her mother looked terrifying. She had to figure out a way to make peace with her mother or she was not going to be able to find complete joy in her newfound freedom. All she needed was a little time.

  Josie closed her eyes for a second. She had tried to do it right. Even though she did not get along with her mother, she loved her and had not wanted the relationship to be ruined. What other choice did she have? Moving out on her own was the only way she would be able to be a mother to her daughter. Moving away from her mother was going to be the only way that she might have the opportunity to meet someone and develop a relationship. 

  This time it really hadn’t been her fault that her mother had blown a gasket. She had gone over the argument again and again in her head, and could not understand why speaking to the new neighbor was such a problem. Her mother had overreacted, but Josie was used to that, what she had not been used to was the silent treatment she had received – not for a day or two, but for the last few months. Her mother’s pride was so important that she would rather lose her only child than to give in and admit she was wrong, but the worst thing had been when her mother started belittling Josie in front of Vicky. 

  Josie looked at the time in frustration, it was 2:20. The day went so slow; if anyone were to ask her what she taught, she wouldn't know. She called herself a good teacher? Ha!

  She was just exhausted. Her students were ready to go when the bell rang and she needed to be ready as well. For the last hour, all her students had been reading and then illustrating their favorite parts of the book. She loved being a teacher, but today, she just went through the motions.

  She smiled as she walked around the room. The pictures were adorable. She loved to see the mind's eye of children expressed in their art, even through the occasional stick figure. She was so blessed to have a job she loved. Her students gave her joy, but now she had to hurry up and go before she chickened out. 

  She hoped to be in and out before her mother showed
up. All she needed was her laptop and perhaps the rest of her things, but she would not worry about those. 

  Maria Esperanza, her best friend and confidant since they were children, was taking care of Vicky. The last fight that happened between Josie and her mother had given Vicky nightmares. Josie and her mother were like a ticking bomb at the moment, and it was worse when they did not agree on something. Josie did not want to expose her daughter to anymore trauma. Josie took a deep breath to calm herself some, but the shaking did not stop. She hated drama. In and out, that is all she wanted to do and hopefully it would be uneventful.

  Josie was planning on driving past the house first to make sure her mother wasn't there and if she was there, give Josie a little extra time to summon the courage to face her. Josie took a couple of deep breaths. Everything will go well, she told herself as she drove slowly by her mother's house.

  As she was ready to drive by, she saw the lights. At first, she could not tell which house was surrounded by cops. The blue lights were everywhere. As Josie got closer, she began to breathe harder. All the police cars were parked in front of her mother's house. Did she give her mother a heart attack? If she had done that could she live with herself? Oh! Gosh! She needed to see her mother. She should've come to check on her sooner.

  She quickly pulled over on the grass. There were no parking spaces available and she needed to see her mother. Her mother needed to be okay. There was no other choice. If something had happened...she could not think of it. It would have been her fault. She wished that she had been a better daughter. If only she had not lost her temper and had made sure her mother was okay. She opened her door, not even bothering to place the car in park or to turn it off, and ran into the house, catching everyone by surprise. She stopped by the door, took a second to look around, and then ran to the hallway where she saw her mother's room, and right next to it the bathroom. Blood, blood everywhere. Oh! “Mom please be okay, mom, please be okay. It's my fault! Forgive me. I know this is my fault!” 

 

  “Ma'am, ma'am, are you okay?”

  Josie opened her eyes slowly, and at seeing all the faces looking at her, she opened her mouth to scream. Special Agent Jones, reacting and not thinking, put his hand over her mouth preventing what he knew to be an ear piercing scream. The woman was terrified, and he needed her to hear him before she decided to pass out again.