Serial Story: English Breakfast, Part 3
This story is presented weekly in draft format.
Part 1 | Part 2 |
English Breakfast, Part 3
The officer took a notebook and pen out of his pocket. “Can you tell me what happened, in your own words?”
Resisting the urge to reply with a smart remark about using someone else’s words, Karen took another sip of tea before answering.
“I was standing behind the bar at my laptop and someone threw a metal canister through the window. It bounced off the floor and I knew it was going to blow, so I hid behind the bar. After the explosion, there was a lot of gunfire. I crawled to the kitchen door and ran out the back to the alley.”
The officer nodded, quickly jotting notes down. His badge said Wilson, and she wondered what his first name was.
“Was there anyone else with you in the shop at the time?”
“No,” she said, blinking back tears. “It was my first day, actually. Not too many people even knew about it yet. I guess that’s good, considering.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The officer scribbled some more, and then looked up with a frown. “How did you know the metal canister was a bomb? And that the sounds afterward came from gunfire?”
She took another sip of tea. “Until recently, I worked for Stetson Security. Familiarity with weapons was part of the job.” She didn’t offer more, knowing even the little she’d given him would trigger a whole new set of questions.
To his credit, he managed to keep his expression neutral, save for a slightly-raised eyebrow. Then again, Kane Stetson had worked hard to build a good repertoire with local law enforcement, which is far more than most security firms did. He wouldn’t appreciate the fact that she’d had to mention him now though, considering the gag order on the current case.
“Any idea why someone would want to burn down your new store?”
Just one really good one...
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know. I wasn’t open long enough to poison anyone.”
Officer Wilson didn’t return her small smile, but he did close his notebook and put it back in his pocket. Taking a business card out of another pocket, he wrote something on the back.
“If you think of anything else, give me a call. I’ll be in touch regarding the investigation. Do you need someone to take you home?”
Karen shook her head again. “I live a few blocks over. I can walk. But thanks. Am I free to go?”
He nodded. “As soon as the paramedics clear you. I’ll let you know when you can get into the store for any valuables you’d like to collect.”
“Thank you.” She watched him wander off in the direction of her smouldering shop. It felt odd, leaving her store open and vulnerable, but she knew there was nothing she could do, and they wouldn’t let her in until it was safe. The only thing she could do now was to go home and wait.”
* * * *
Half an hour later Karen finally let herself into her condo, thankful that one of the firefighters had been thoughtful enough to retrieve her purse and keys from the back office while they were checking for hot spots. It had taken some convincing and a thorough search before Officer Wilson agreed to let her take what he considered evidence from the scene, but considering the only items in there had been her cell phone, keys, and wallet, he settled for just keeping the cell. Unfortunately, it was her only phone, so she’d be incommunicado aside from email until she got it back.
Locking the door behind her, she dropped her purse and keys on the kitchen counter and went to the refrigerator. It was nearly six, and she knew she should eat, but food wasn’t what she was after. Retrieving a half-empty bottle of wine, she got a glass tumbler from the cupboard and poured a healthy dose of the red elixir in a shaky stream. Shoving the cork back into the bottle, she set it on the counter and took a large swig from the glass, wishing she kept tequila on hand. It felt more like a hard-liquor night, but leftovers would just have to do.
Putting the wine bottle back in the fridge, she took the tumbler with her up the stairs, down the hall and through the master bedroom to a generous en suite bathroom. One more swallow and she set the glass down, stripping off her clothing and turning on the shower. She stepped under the warm spray and pulled the glass door shut behind her.
Tilting her head back with her eyes closed, she let the water sluice through her hair, her fingers trembling as they stroked through the long strands. Steam surrounded her in a cocoon of heat, but still she shivered as she leaned one shoulder against the wall.
That’s when the tears came.
Emotion wracked her body and she sank to the tile floor, unable to stop the heavy sobs as they ripped from her heart. Everything she’d worked for, gone. The new life she’d been trying to built, burned to the ground in less than an hour, all because her past wouldn’t let her go.
She was ruined. Even if the insurance paid out, it wouldn’t be enough to get the shop back to what it had been. She didn’t really have any friends, her family was gone, and the bank sure wasn’t going to sympathize with her plight.
The water started to cool down, and she swiped her eyes before reaching around to move the faucet handle closer to hot. Pushing to her feet, she let the stream massage her face for a few seconds, washing away the hurt and leaving only a numb, empty hole in it’s place.
Quickly washing her hair, she turned off the water and stepped out to wrap herself in a large pink towel. Starting toward the bedroom, she stopped in the doorway and frowned. Scanning the room, she took stock, but she didn’t see anything out of place or missing. Not that she’d remember, anyway.
Still, something felt off. The house was too quiet. She pulled her clothes on as quickly as possible even as she tried to convince herself it was just paranoia sparked by the day’s events.
Then the bathroom door flew open, nearly hitting her. She jumped back out of the way and lost her balance, hitting the floor hard. Before she could process what was happening rough hands pulled her off the floor and a hard set of knuckles exploded into her left cheek.
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Part 1 | Part 2 |
English Breakfast, Part 3
The officer took a notebook and pen out of his pocket. “Can you tell me what happened, in your own words?”
Resisting the urge to reply with a smart remark about using someone else’s words, Karen took another sip of tea before answering.
“I was standing behind the bar at my laptop and someone threw a metal canister through the window. It bounced off the floor and I knew it was going to blow, so I hid behind the bar. After the explosion, there was a lot of gunfire. I crawled to the kitchen door and ran out the back to the alley.”
The officer nodded, quickly jotting notes down. His badge said Wilson, and she wondered what his first name was.
“Was there anyone else with you in the shop at the time?”
“No,” she said, blinking back tears. “It was my first day, actually. Not too many people even knew about it yet. I guess that’s good, considering.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The officer scribbled some more, and then looked up with a frown. “How did you know the metal canister was a bomb? And that the sounds afterward came from gunfire?”
She took another sip of tea. “Until recently, I worked for Stetson Security. Familiarity with weapons was part of the job.” She didn’t offer more, knowing even the little she’d given him would trigger a whole new set of questions.
To his credit, he managed to keep his expression neutral, save for a slightly-raised eyebrow. Then again, Kane Stetson had worked hard to build a good repertoire with local law enforcement, which is far more than most security firms did. He wouldn’t appreciate the fact that she’d had to mention him now though, considering the gag order on the current case.
“Any idea why someone would want to burn down your new store?”
Just one really good one...
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know. I wasn’t open long enough to poison anyone.”
Officer Wilson didn’t return her small smile, but he did close his notebook and put it back in his pocket. Taking a business card out of another pocket, he wrote something on the back.
“If you think of anything else, give me a call. I’ll be in touch regarding the investigation. Do you need someone to take you home?”
Karen shook her head again. “I live a few blocks over. I can walk. But thanks. Am I free to go?”
He nodded. “As soon as the paramedics clear you. I’ll let you know when you can get into the store for any valuables you’d like to collect.”
“Thank you.” She watched him wander off in the direction of her smouldering shop. It felt odd, leaving her store open and vulnerable, but she knew there was nothing she could do, and they wouldn’t let her in until it was safe. The only thing she could do now was to go home and wait.”
* * * *
Half an hour later Karen finally let herself into her condo, thankful that one of the firefighters had been thoughtful enough to retrieve her purse and keys from the back office while they were checking for hot spots. It had taken some convincing and a thorough search before Officer Wilson agreed to let her take what he considered evidence from the scene, but considering the only items in there had been her cell phone, keys, and wallet, he settled for just keeping the cell. Unfortunately, it was her only phone, so she’d be incommunicado aside from email until she got it back.
Locking the door behind her, she dropped her purse and keys on the kitchen counter and went to the refrigerator. It was nearly six, and she knew she should eat, but food wasn’t what she was after. Retrieving a half-empty bottle of wine, she got a glass tumbler from the cupboard and poured a healthy dose of the red elixir in a shaky stream. Shoving the cork back into the bottle, she set it on the counter and took a large swig from the glass, wishing she kept tequila on hand. It felt more like a hard-liquor night, but leftovers would just have to do.
Putting the wine bottle back in the fridge, she took the tumbler with her up the stairs, down the hall and through the master bedroom to a generous en suite bathroom. One more swallow and she set the glass down, stripping off her clothing and turning on the shower. She stepped under the warm spray and pulled the glass door shut behind her.
Tilting her head back with her eyes closed, she let the water sluice through her hair, her fingers trembling as they stroked through the long strands. Steam surrounded her in a cocoon of heat, but still she shivered as she leaned one shoulder against the wall.
That’s when the tears came.
Emotion wracked her body and she sank to the tile floor, unable to stop the heavy sobs as they ripped from her heart. Everything she’d worked for, gone. The new life she’d been trying to built, burned to the ground in less than an hour, all because her past wouldn’t let her go.
She was ruined. Even if the insurance paid out, it wouldn’t be enough to get the shop back to what it had been. She didn’t really have any friends, her family was gone, and the bank sure wasn’t going to sympathize with her plight.
The water started to cool down, and she swiped her eyes before reaching around to move the faucet handle closer to hot. Pushing to her feet, she let the stream massage her face for a few seconds, washing away the hurt and leaving only a numb, empty hole in it’s place.
Quickly washing her hair, she turned off the water and stepped out to wrap herself in a large pink towel. Starting toward the bedroom, she stopped in the doorway and frowned. Scanning the room, she took stock, but she didn’t see anything out of place or missing. Not that she’d remember, anyway.
Still, something felt off. The house was too quiet. She pulled her clothes on as quickly as possible even as she tried to convince herself it was just paranoia sparked by the day’s events.
Then the bathroom door flew open, nearly hitting her. She jumped back out of the way and lost her balance, hitting the floor hard. Before she could process what was happening rough hands pulled her off the floor and a hard set of knuckles exploded into her left cheek.
Enjoy
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Romantic Suspense
| Erotic Romance | Contemporary Romance |
Suspense/Thriller
| Flash Fiction | Non-Fiction
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