The Enemy Beside Her, Melissa Willingham [the beach read .txt] 📗

Meg brushed the loose strands of brunette hair behind her ears. It was mid-afternoon in the quiet sub-division of Merry Meadows, where she lived with her husband, Thomas. While he was away on business, she found herself running a vacuum cleaner across their living room.

With some effort, she gave herself over to the task of pushing and pulling the whirring machine. When she felt a little hint of pain in her lower belly, she abandoned the job abruptly. Meg drew in a deep breath, slowly releasing it. Perching on the couch, she sighed and lightly rubbed her swelling tummy. At twelve weeks, she had just barely begun to show signs of the little life growing inside her.

Glancing at the television, she decided to catch the noontime news. She flipped on the tube and surfed through a couple of channels, before settling on one. The newscasters broached various topics as they commented to one another on the issues. Suddenly, the female announcer offered a breaking news report.

“Two hikers who were walking along the Dover Mountain Trails found a woman’s partially-nude body today. Police believe she is yet another victim of the Bushy Basher. He is so named because his method of attack involves bashing his victims over the skull. Witnesses have described him as having a bushy head of hair. He is a white male in his early thirties…“

Meg shivered and snapped the T.V. off quickly. She didn’t want to hear any more about the lunatic who was out there preying on unsuspecting females. The last thing she needed to think about when she was all alone was a serial killer. Ever since that madman had started stalking victims, she dreaded it when her husband had to leave the house.

***

The sound of the doorbell chiming interrupted her musings. She wondered who’d be dropping by, because she wasn’t expecting anyone.

“Who is it?” she called out as she neared the door.

“Detectives from the Atlanta Police Department,” a strong, confident voice bellowed.

Meg halted momentarily. What on earth did the APD want? She approached hesitantly and cracked open the door, leaving the chain in place.

“May I see your badges, please?” she asked politely.

“Sure, ma’am,” a soft voice replied.

Two badges were held up to the opening for her verification. Satisfied that they were real sleuths, she removed the chain and opened the door wider.

“How may I help you?” she wondered, still puzzled as to the reason for their spontaneous visit.

The double-chinned, heavy-set one with the loud, booming voice spoke up first. “Are you Meg Bailey?”

She nodded. “Yes, I am.”

He cleared his throat. “We have a few questions we’d like to ask you.”

The other man was handsome, with dark hair and an average build. He smiled at Meg, gesturing with his hand. “May we speak with you inside for a moment, ma’am?”

“Sure, come in, detectives.” She led the way through the small foyer and into the elegantly furnished den. The two men followed, seating themselves upon the plush couch that she indicated. Meg took a seat across from them in her favorite wing chair.

“Mrs. Bailey, I’m Roscoe Dietz,” the stocky one said. “This here’s my partner, Barry Goodman.” He glanced over at the younger man.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’d offer you both some tea and cookies, but I don’t have any made,” she told them conversationally.

“This ain’t a social call, lady,” Dietz snorted. “We’re here to ask about your husband.”

Meg felt an uncomfortable sensation spreading through her. “What about him?”

“First off, where is he?”

“Well, he’s out of town on business right now.”

Dietz gave a bark of a laugh. “Are you sure of that? How can you be certain what that ole man of yours is up to?”

“Just what are you implying, sir?”

“Does he come home late at night? Does he run right for the shower? Does he stay away on long business trips?” Dietz prattled off a rapid-fire series of questions.

Meg bristled, feeling her dander rising. “What are you talking about?”

Detective Goodman, who had been silent thus far, spoke up. “Settle down, Dietz. This isn’t an interrogation.”

But the older man wouldn’t hear of it. “If she knows something, then I aim to find out what it is,” he snapped.

“I don’t think she knows anything,” Goodman argued.

“Would someone please tell me what this is about?” Meg inquired.

Dietz leaned forward conspiratorially. “We think your husband may be involved in the Bushy Basher case.”

Meg felt shock soaring through her. She gasped loudly. “No, you’re wrong.”

“I don’t think so, lady. All of the evidence points to your hubby. We’re gonna nail him to the wall.”

“What evidence?”

“His truck matches the description of the one seen leaving two of the crime scenes. We’ve got a witness who recalled four numbers on the tag. They match up with your husband’s tag.  So, once we get some DNA to tie him to the crimes, he’s ours.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Thomas would never harm anyone.”

“Your husband’s a killer. And if you know anything, you’re gonna go down with him.”

“Please, stop. Don’t say such horrible things about us. They’re not true. I’m pregnant with our first child and we have a good marriage.”

“Knock it off, man,” Goodman told his partner.

“If you’re keeping secrets for a killer, you’ll take the fall, baby or no baby,” Dietz swore.

“Stop it! Please, just get out of my house,” Meg ordered. She stood up and headed for the front door. She showed them out, but before they walked away, Detective Goodman turned to face her.

“I hope you’ll excuse my partner. He’s a little rough around the edges.” He dug into his pocket and produced a business card, handing it to Meg.

She accepted reluctantly. “Your partner is very rude. You two are polar opposites.”

He nodded. “I apologize for his behavior. Just know that if there’s any ring of truth to what my partner believes about your husband, your life may be in danger.”

Meg held up her hand in protest. “Don’t, please.”

“Okay, well, if you need any assistance or think of anything that might be helpful, call me.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

After the detectives had driven off, Meg felt a wave of nausea overcome her. Her whole body began to tremble. She could hardly believe the accusations Dietz had been spitting out. The duress was becoming too much for her to handle and her stomach heaved. She rushed to the bathroom, emptying her lunch into the commode.

***

When Thomas came home the next evening, Meg considered how she should best approach the subject. He looked tired from his long trip and she hated to add to his stress. During dinner, she watched him surreptitiously, not wanting him to know she was studying him.

Deciding that it would be better for him to know the police were investigating him, she took the plunge. “Thomas, some detectives came by the house yesterday. They asked me questions about you. I didn’t know what to tell them.”

He glanced up from his meal, a hint of interest sparkled in his eyes. “What kind of questions?”

Meg sighed and glanced around the room. She didn’t know where to begin. Swallowing a bite of roast, she replied, “They asked me about your trips and what you do when you come home? Then they accused you of terrible things and said they have evidence against you. They told me if I was involved, I would go to jail, too.”

Thomas’s features relaxed suddenly. His expression went blank and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. It’s probably nothing important.”

Meg gasped in surprise at his reaction. “How can you say that? You didn’t even ask me what this is all about.”

He shoveled in a mouthful of potatoes and chewed speculatively. “No need to ask; I already know. They’ve had me down at the station a few times. But it’s no big deal.”

“They are accusing you of murder, Thomas! I’d say that’s a very big deal. You never told me they’d interrogated you.”

“Why should I, Meg? I didn’t want to worry you. Besides, they don’t have any concrete evidence against me,” he responded matter-of-factly.

She shook her head in disbelief at his carefree attitude. He seemed so cold and emotionless, as if he had no feelings anymore. She stared at him as he finished the last of his food. It was as if she was really seeing him for the first time.

His words had told her what she needed to know. With all the courage that she dared, she asked, “Is what they said about you true? Did you kill those women?”

Without warning, Thomas’s hand shot across the table and slapped the side of her face. “What do you think? Don’t be stupid! How could you ask me such a thing? I will not be questioned by my own wife!” he snapped.

Meg reached up to nurse her reddening cheek, mumbling softly, “I’m sorry.”

He jumped up from the table and pulled off his belt. Grasping her hands in his, he wrapped it around her wrists, binding them together. “I’m in the mood for some fun. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Meg twisted and turned, struggling against her restraints, but it was no use. “Please, don’t. Not like this, Thomas,” she begged. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as he tugged her down the hallway.

***

The next morning after he’d left for the office, Meg set about conducting a search of the house. She began in their bedroom and made her way to the attic. Finding nothing incriminating in either place, she headed down to inspect the basement.

She combed through the contents of his workshop and then examined the storage area. She couldn’t locate anything of interest. So, she walked over to the door of his study. She tried the knob and found it locked. Fetching a crowbar from a nearby wall, she pried the door open, certain now that he had something to hide.

The room looked neat, with an oak desk, a swivel chair, and a laptop. She immediately went to the computer to skim through his files. At first, the contents seemed business-related. With desperate determination, Meg continued digging, analyzing each folder. Finally, she came across one that was marked Private.

As she read the words her husband had typed onto the Microsoft Word page, she felt her world crumbling around her. Her illusions of family, love, and happiness shattered like glass.

“Meg has a glob of tissue growing inside her. I never wanted the little rugrat. I hate kids and I detest the weaker sex who bears them. I despise Meg and I will terminate her, just like all those other sluts.”

The folder contained the names of the murdered women and offered shocking details of the crimes. When she’d finished reading, Meg gasped for air, barely able to breathe. Tears trickled down her face. She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. How could she have been such a poor judge of character?

Suddenly, she heard a noise and glanced up to see Thomas in the doorway. On his head was a bushy wig and in his hand was a club. “I’m going to kill you and the brat,” he hissed, slowly advancing towards her.

Meg pulled out a revolver she’d found hidden in his desk drawer. “No, I won’t let you,” she whispered, pulling the trigger.

Her shocked husband crumpled to the floor; his blood staining the beige carpet. With trembling fingers, she returned to the computer, emailing the file she’d just discovered to Detective Goodman. While she waited for the police to arrive, Meg caressed her tummy and smiled sadly.

“It’s just the two of us now,” she murmured. “Your mommy loves you so much, baby.”

***