She came home to a blood stained house and terror feeding her insides. It was lunch time in this up\per class neighborhood, and she had never experienced anything like this. She looked around the house, with its lavish furnishings and wondered why there was blood on the wall. She called her daughters name, her sons, then her husbands, no answer. They were all home today, the kids went to a nearby private school and they had the day off for some reason or another, and her husband had stayed home with them.
Mindy worked as a reporter at one of the top paying stations in the state. Her face was plastered on bus benches all over the city, but she had tried to keep her kids and her husband out of the spotlight because they preferred it that way, had someone targeted her kids and her husband because of that.
She found more blood in the house, but no sign of Corrina, Jacob or Jason, nothing was out of place, accept for the blood. Way to much blood.
Mindy felt paralyzed, she had come home for lunch as she often did, and now her family was missing, and there was blood. Who would want to hurt her family, they were quiet good people, who tended not to make waves. Her kids were both honors students and her husband was an author, but he wrote nothing that would make anyone want to hurt him, at least she didnít think he did.
Why is it that I seem to know so little about my own family? I feel as if I am living my life away from them, and now they are not home, and thereís blood.
Something wasnít right, she knew that, she had reported stories like this. More often than not the outcome was bad, but that happened in the city not in the center of suburbia with its million dollar plus homes, and beach front views.
This must be all a bad dream, a bad dream I will soon wake up from.
This wasnít a bad dream though Mindy was jolted by that fact over and over again. The blood on her walls was to real, the police standing in her doorway were to real. She had called them, told them that something was not right, and the blood told so much and so little. Someone had been hurt or worse. She could not think about it being worse though. They were her family, her kids, her husband, they meant more to her than anything else she had in life, even the lucrative reporter career meant nothing without them.
The police asked Mindy a series of questions, questions she didnít like, but she had read enough, had reported enough to know the drill.
Loved oneís were always suspected first.
Most crimes were committed not by complete strangers but by the people in the lives of the victims.
She didnít like that word when it applied to her family, but she knew that was what everyone was thinking. Deep down she was thinking the same thing.
Victims of foul play.
Mindy hated even thinking it, but how could she not, with the blood all over the house and her family missing.
This kind of thing wasnít suppose to happen here, not to her, not to her family.
She reported these kind of stories not lived them.
She had to wake up from this nightmare.
She had to.
Her body and mind was overwhelmed. Mindy found herself nearly passing out on the sofa in the family room as the police asked her question after question. It was all so overwhelming, all so surreal.
Lord this isnít suppose to be happening, I am not supposed to be sitting here with the police, wondering what happened to my family.
Mindy knew it wasnít really a prayer but she could not help saying the words over and over in her mind. She was angry and she felt she had a right to be, her world was coming crashing down.
It seemed like the questioning took hours, hours that could have been used for searching for her family. Mindy was getting angry, why werenít the cops out looking yet? She knew that every minute counted and that the first twenty four to forty eight hours were crucial. Sheíd done enough abduction stories to know this, but she had never thought she would be living one.
Her family was gone.
She was all alone.
Mindy tried to let her mind think on happier times, but her mind could only wrap around the fact that her husband and children were missing, and something was wrong very wrong.
Mindy wondered if she would ever wake up from this nightmare. If her eyes would open and she would find her husband in bed next to her, and her children would be in their rooms. It wasnít going to happen though, the reality of the situation was that this was reality.
She was living a nightmare, a nightmare worse than one she had ever had.
Lord this is hard my children are gone, my husband is gone. I wonder if I will ever see them again Lord, will I ever get my family back again.
The phone rang jolting Mindy back to reality. The station was calling, wondering what was going on.
She didnít know what to tell them, but she also knew that she could not go into the station she would be a basket case.
It was hard to think about what was going on, the blood still marked the walls but it did not tell the story. She would be left wondering until the answers were found, and Mindy did not like where her mind was wandering too.
This canít be real, this is just a badly scripted plot.
Mindy knew that was not true , she knew that her family really was missing, and no matter what she did she could not take the horror away.
Where were her children, her husband? Were they scared.
Sadly I was inspired to write Suspense in Suburbia by a true life case that has still gone unsolved. This is by no means meant to be a biographical sketch of that, but it is meant to show others that things like this really do happen and in place where we least expect them too...