CURSE OF A FATHER

This chapter is dedicated to Road2Woodbury for being the best fan and reader of this story, EVER!!

Nicholas Smith was sitting outside. 

The warm, gentle sun kissed his neck and the green summer grass looked vibrant in the surrounding countryside.  The cold murky waters of lake Marion looked inviting.  Tom was with him and the small figure of Jack Peterson stood behind him.  Nicholas stared at the gravestone with tears in his eyes. 

In loving memory of Carrol Smith
1964-2017
A Loving mother, friend, wife and neighbourhood protector.

I couldn't think of anything to say.  I was brought back to that fateful night, how I couldn't bear to look at my mother, being violently sick and waiting for what seemed like years to find the person responsible for this gruesome, undignified atrocity.  And now that the investigation had been suspended, I was no closer to the closure I desired so greatly. 

I merely said 'thank you mum.  I'll find them, one way or another. We will find them.  I promise.  I love you'.  I took out the roses and gently laid them on the grass.  Then I laid the officers cap that his mother had wore during her time as a policewoman, I laid it just in front of the marble headstone. 

We retreated from the grave, all three of us moved immensely by the events we had just witnessed.  We solemnly started to leave the site.  I was in the middle with Thomas McDermot and Jack Peterson supporting me as I walked slowly and meaningfully out of the lonely cemetery beside the lake. 

The line was broken only momentarily as they opened the gate and individually left the cemetery.  A light rain picked up, the grass is glistening like sweat by the raindrops.  Raindrops run over the police officer's cap, eventually making their way into the dirt.  The marble headstone stood proudly as a testament to the life of a wonderful woman and as a reminder of the tragedy that this world features. 

I was wary of Jack, the matter of the notebook still had not been addressed.  I still had no answer and I didn't think I was getting one anytime soon.

David Smith was on the move.  He wore a light backpack on his shoulders and was walking at a brisk pace.  He wore a black suit from his job as a Banker in the north of Maplefield.  The town featured a shopping centre, bank, hospital and other common services. 

He passed a small yet well kept house.  The yard enormous and very formal with the lawn neatly mowed.  Modern lights illuminate the interior.  The spacious, square kitchen has marble counters and a sink with brushed metal taps.  The floor is tiled and the walls are textured and painted in a shade of cream.  Warm yellow light is provided by ceiling lights.  The room is done in modern colours and overall has a clean look. 

He kept walking.  He passed a park, which looks very formal.  Boasting many trees, a fountain, and lonely picnic tables.  He walked on, through the town.

I was back in my room.  The spacious, L-shaped bedroom has coordinating wooden and plastic furniture.  The floor is carpeted red and the walls are painted blue.  Light is provided by a single ceiling light.  Many posters paper the wall.   Among the first things that can be noticed walking into the room, include a large whiteboard and an overstuffed cupboard.  I was trying to piece together the suspects that could have made my world crash and burn.  So far I had a mere two names.

Jack
Dad

After I had discovered the mysterious notebook in Jack's room I had been suspicious of my long time friend.  I was too scared to ask him so he remained in the list. 

As for my father, he had acted violently both physically and verbally to my mother after he had discovered that she had had an affair with another, younger man.  He may have wanted revenge for her actions. 

I hoped with all my heart that this was not the case.  I hoped that neither of them were guilty, but I couldn't hide the fact that, at least for now they were my prime suspects. 

                                                                                                    *
David Smith arrived at the cemetery.  Rows of graves spilled out the lives of hundreds, each life unique and distinct from the last.  Empty benches sat guarding these testimonies.  He wore a baseball cap low to hide his face from any onlookers and grievers.  There weren't any.  The place was empty.  It was 9:57 pm after all. 

He had jumped the fence and changed into  diesel jeans and a rustic looking T-shirt, heart pounding all the while.  It was raining heavily and his T-shirt clung to his neck and hunched shoulders.  His converse shoes flooded with water and a squelch could be heard when he walked. 

Apart for the sound of his sluggish movements, it was silent in the cemetery.  Then he saw his wife's grave.

Nicholas had been there.

Fresh roses were laid at the foot of the grave, and a police officers cap was just in front of the gravestone. 

He snatched the flowers off the grave and snapped the stems off before crushing the petals underneath his boots.  Petals peppered the ground around the grave. Then he bent down and lifted the police cap from the grave.  He scrunched it up into a ball in fury and threw it into the lake.  The waters no longer looked inviting.