A Thread of Evidence

 “You’re nobody, why should she let you in? She’ll probably laugh at you and tell you to get lost!” He couldn’t bear that, so he decided to follow through with his well-thought out plan.

He walked up the front porch steps. His stomach ached. Again, he took deep breaths. As he stood at the door, headlights of a car turning onto Archer Boulevard scanned across the porch and the bulky figure standing there. He froze in place, fearing it may be the Rosen’s returning early, but the car continued north up the boulevard.

Slowly, he walked to the window. There she was, curled up like a little kitten. She was reading. The console television across the room was on, but he couldn’t hear it and she wasn’t watching it. The volume was turned down.

As if some inner power took control, he moved closer to the window and tapped on the glass. She didn’t move, so he tapped again using his ring to make a louder sound. She turned, and drew her face closer to the window to see past the reflection of the light. Lynn expected to see Lisa, but she recognized the night visitor. He smiled and gestured, suggesting she open the door to let him in.

She placed the open book on the table beside the sofa. A red tasseled bookmark served to mark the page. She was not frightened, but she was annoyed. What is he doing here? I’ll just tell him I’m not allowed to have anyone in while I’m babysitting and he’ll just go on his way. He’s probably just passing by anyway, she thought.

As she approached the front door, she reached for the dead bolt. Turning the lock and doorknob simultaneously, the door opened. Quickly, the intruder pushed the heavy door in and knocked Lynn off balance. In an instant, he slid the weapon from his sleeve, and yanked the paper from the blade.

Lynn was frightened and shouted, “What are you doing here? Get out!”

Then she saw the shiny blade. She screamed, “No, no, please no!”

The cruel, vicious attack began and Lynn felt the first thrust into her side. She gasped, and turned to run. She managed the few steps into the living room and he grabbed her hair. She was no match for her attacker as he continued pulling her toward him.

She grasped her side and felt the warmth of her blood between her fingers. Her attacker was frenzied by now. Although she had suffered at least four stabs to her arms, side and shoulder, she fought and kicked. He continued to deliver blow after blow, five, six . . . the deed had become euphoric to him. He couldn’t stop. He struck a mighty blow with the handle of the blood soaked bayonet. It was so powerful it broke her neck. Like a lifeless rag doll, she crumbled to the floor.

He could hear the silence. It was dead silence now and he couldn’t move. He stared at Lynn’s lifeless body, now in a half sitting position, propped up against the blood-spattered walls. The silence was broken by a whimper of a small child. Suddenly the whimper became a deafening cry of fear and panic. The deranged attacker snapped out of his reveries and the cry became real.

He followed the crying and entered the bedroom of little David Rosen. By now, David was standing on his bed calling out to