In Life, In Death, Our Love Stays True (Prologue)

Prologue

The police car came to a stop outside of 1021 Bridge Street. The call had come from Mrs Wilma Carrington, a neighbor, and town busy body. According to her, she had heard a gunshot about half an hour ago from inside the house of Owen Baxter - who had just lost his wife a couple of days before. It was probably nothing; old Wilma Carrington had a tendency to call in any little thing that went bump in the night. You could go as far as call it a hobby.
                Officer Frank Mattox, of the Glendale, Ohio police department, took a mouthful of his morning coffee, stepped out of the car and ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. It was going to be a nice day, felt like spring was just around the corner.
                ‘Don’t worry about getting out Jim, just enjoy your coffee, probably was just a car backfiring or something. Wilma Carrington has got us out here enough times over the past twenty years over nothing, can’t see this time being any different.’
                His partner chuckled and reached for his coffee. ‘Sounds like a good plan of attack Frank.’
                ‘See you in a minute.’
                ‘Yeah buddy. If you wanna charge old Wilma with wasting police time, I’m not gonna protest.’
                ‘Ha! That would be a great start to the day, but the old crone would probably die of a heart attack. It’s likely that she’s hiding in her hedge and recording this whole conversation.’
                Both men laughed and Frank meandered down Owen Baxter’s drive.
               
He rapped his knuckles on the window glass of the front door and waited. He couldn’t hear anything from inside, poor guy was probably asleep, or nursing a monster hangover. God knew that he would be if he was in Owen Baxter’s position.
                He peered into the window and surveyed the living room. Baxter had a nice place; the older house’s interior had obviously been redone in recent years. His eyes stopped on the plush sofa. Two figures were slumped upon the cushions. By looks of things a man and a woman. Maybe old Owen picked himself up a little lady to ease the pain, he thought. He knocked on the window again, a little harder this time.
                ‘Owen? It’s Officer Frank Mattox, just calling to see if you’re okay buddy.’ There was no movement from either of the two. Must’ve been quite a night, he mused. Still, he couldn’t just walk away with out checking it out. Better to be safe than sorry, was something his mother would always say, and when it came to police work, it was as good a motto as any.
                ‘Owen! It’s Frank Mattox from down the station! Just checking up on ya!’ He hammered on the glass. Still nothing. Shit, this could actually be serious this time. He tried the door, and found it locked. ‘Fuck,’ he cursed. Probably nothing, but shit! ‘Owen! I’m coming in man!’
                ‘You okay up there Frank,’ Jim called from the car.
                ‘Yeah, just gimme a minute Jim!’
                Frank Mattox took his pistol from its holster, took a step back, counted to three, and kicked the door in. He stepped into the house, gun held in front of him.
                ‘Owen!’ He called.
                He took a few steps towards the couch and stopped dead in his tracks. He couldn’t believe the scene before him.
                ‘Hey Jimmy! You’re gonna wanna come take a look at this!’