The Harbingers

Carol stood behind the front door still fastened at the safety latch, which Matthew had installed shortly after the suspicious utility truck had appeared, and the clandestine work under his house had taken place.

"Yes," she answered softly, still clad in her housecoat, though it was shortly after noon.

The detective offered his badge, flipping it open close to where her one eye peeked from behind the almost-closed door.

"I’m Detective Clark," he said condescendingly. "May I come in?"

Aware of the problems that had been plaguing the family, Carol had learned quickly to trust absolutely no one!

"I think not," she countermanded with an air of fear. She was further annoyed by this unwelcome guest standing on her welcome mat with muddy feet.

"I think you need to reconsider. I realize your hesitation in inviting me in. However, what I am compelled to tell you should be done in your home--not through a half-closed door. I have bad news concerning your husband, Matthew. Mathew White, the Matthew White with the World Geological Foundation. He is your husband, isn’t he?"

Sweat beads began to well up across her forehead and down the back of her neck. She was feeling faint. Faint, as though her knees were about to boycott their intended duty of supporting her slight frame. Her emotional state had always been somewhat fragile, and upon quickly running the current scenario through her mind, she intuitively knew the news he was about to deliver was not good. Quick evaluation of past events told her that what had taken place at their home was not a simple matter of lost paperwork or scheduled work accidentally taking place at the wrong address. The Florida trip flashed through her mind as well. Why the sudden interest in visiting a friend whose close social ties had been held together over the past twenty years with a Christmas good wish and a high school reunion. It all added up to a quick judgement. Whether this stranger standing at the front door was legitimate or not, didn’t really matter. Either way she felt the grave threat that he was about to ruin her life. And with that, she forfeited her right to stay him off any longer and said, "Of course, I’m sorry to be so rude. One has to take extra precaution these days, you know."

Carol casually closed the door trying to conceal her fear. Detective Clark could hear the latch scraping against the receptacle where it had fitted securely, then the jangle of flexed chain drop against the wood facing around the door.

Carol smoothed down her hair, grabbing it at the back of her neck attempting a quick presentable coiffure. She ran her index finger across each eyebrow, and moistened her lips with her tongue as she smoothed out the front of her housecoat and tightened the sash at her waist. The door opened slowly, as Carol forced a smile and invited the detective inside.