had to dodge them; they barely got out of the way and sneered at us. I had no bone to pick with them, so left them alone. I took special notice of a vacant house three doors down. Somehow, I would fit it into my plan. I drove down to the corner and stopped. I looked back over my shoulder and smiled. Smiling was better than crying. I hoped Marilyn would understand.
I spent the next two weeks trying to get well. I had difficulty breathing and bending over. I went out and bought a bigger handgun. Julie did not know that I had bought the bigger gun. It was a forty caliber, semi-automatic, sixteen-shot gun. It would kill at a fair distance. I went to a gun range and practiced every day. At first, I did good to just hit the target. Then I was doing a good job of putting the shots all in a relatively small circle. I was now ready to go after the Wards, or so I thought. I went to a gun store and bought two different types of holsters. One fastened to my belt and one went in my boot. My small gun went in my right boot, and the larger one fastened to my belt. When I had both guns on, I felt very armed.
It was late one evening that I told Julie that I was going to go out and get some ice cream, and would she put the kids to bed for me. I left and had both guns and a box of shells for each one.
I drove by the rundown house. The lights were on; even the porch light was on. I parked in front of the vacant house and walked back down the street. The street was totally deserted. It was nearly dark and all the kids were gone.
When I got to their ratty house, I walked on up to the door. I knocked with my left hand, holding the new big gun behind my back in my right hand.
A man came to the door. I didn’t recognize him, but he didn’t have a shirt on and had two large bandages on his abdomen. He smiled. “Yes, sir, what can I do for you?” As soon as he spoke, I realized who he was. I had the right man, no doubt about it.
I smiled my best smile. “Benny, is Justin here?”
He turned around and yelled, “Justin, you have company!”
I shot Benny three times in the side and chest. He went down like a lead balloon. I was down on my left knee. I had my left hand on my spare gun.
I saw movement in the house. I shot out the light in the front room. It took two bullets. I reached in with my left hand, found the light switch, and turned the porch light off. I slipped into the room and hid behind a big fluffy chair. I saw Justin in the hall; he was peeking around the corner, looking to see what had happened. I shot into the wall, just behind his head, and I saw him go down. I stepped out from behind the chair and walked over to him. Blood was pouring out of his neck. I had hit an artery. I cupped my hand over it and pressed down.
“Justin you are going to bleed to death if I let go of your neck. Tell me who wanted the documents and I will call for an ambulance and keep you alive. Say anything else and you die.”
He asked, “What about Benny?”
I said, “Benny is dying too. You better tell me or you both die.”
Justin stared up at me and said, “The number is on a pad by the phone. They sent us fifty grand to get the documents. I don’t know who they were; now call an ambulance for us!”
I let go of his neck and he clamped his hand over it. Blood was spurting out between his fingers.
I said, “You killed my wife. It is your turn to die.” The anger that had been building in me for weeks now came to a head. I went on, “Justin, who was the woman?”
He was fighting the blood flow on his neck. I didn’t think that he had heard me or understood me; I would come back to him.
I went looking for their phone and found one on the wall in the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a phone number written on the pad. I took the pad and stuffed it into my back pocket and walked slowly to the front door. Justin was on his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet. Blood was squirting out his neck. I walked back over to him and shoved him backward onto the floor. I stomped on his right hand so that he couldn’t cover his neck. I walked over and checked Benny. He wasn’t breathing. I pulled a small lighter out of my pocket and went around lighting anything that would burn, mostly curtains. I went on out the front door, listening to the crackling of the fire and also to Justin crying out, “Benny, Benny!”
I walked down to my car, got in and started it up. I got blood all over the steering wheel. I drove to a gas station, went into their bathroom and cleaned my hands up. Then I took wet paper towels out to my car and cleaned the blood up. I threw the paper towels in a dumpster.
I drove back by the house and there were three fire trucks out in the street. The old wooden house was blazing. I hoped that it would burn to the ground. I was very happy with myself. I was fairly certain that I hadn’t left any evidence or fingerprints.
On my way home, I stopped at the ice cream store and bought a half gallon of cherry vanilla ice cream. During my drive home, I began to hope that I hadn’t burnt the documents up in the ratty old house.
When I got home, Julie was in bed asleep. I put the ice cream in the freezer and put all my clothes in the washing machine. I put in a full cup of washing powder and turned the machine on. I took a shower and washed myself carefully. When I got out of the shower, I hid the gun in the attic over the garage, under some insulation.
The washer was finished. I put my clothes in the dryer and turned it to fifty minutes. I checked the car one more time for blood spots and I was satisfied. I had committed the perfect crime.
Later that night, when I went to bed, I said a little prayer for Marilyn. I forgave her for cheating on me and I hoped that she had gone to Heaven.
The next morning, Julie took the kids to school and daycare. When she came back she cornered me. “Brandon, there is some blood in the floorboard of your car. Do you know anything about it?”
I smiled. “Yeah, I had a bloody nose last night. I thought that I cleaned it all up, but I guess I didn’t. I will clean it up, don’t worry.”
She smiled. “I have a modeling gig today. I will be gone all day. Stay out of trouble, and I will clean the blood up when I get home. Don’t you go out there and bend over.”
After she left, I went out and cleaned up all the blood, it turned out to not be more than a few specks and one small smear. When I went back inside, I pulled out the notepad and looked at the number. It was an area code that I hadn’t seen before. I looked it up on the internet and it turned out to be a suburb of Philadelphia. I had never been to Philadelphia before, so this was going to be a new experience for me. The town the phone was registered in was Wayne, Pennsylvania. It was a landline and had a physical address. I was not looking forward to going to Philadelphia.
I decided to try something. I called the number and tried to talk in a gravelly voice.
“Hey, this is Justin Ward. Have you got any more work for us?”
The voice on the other end was a woman’s. I couldn’t tell how old she was, but she said, “Not for a while. You keep your head down and don’t let the cops catch you. By the way, lose this number. Contact me by email.” She gave me a simple email account. I began to wonder if she might be “the” woman that I was looking for.
I set up another email account for myself using Justin Ward’s name, and I sent her an email. She responded almost immediately, and soon we were sending emails back and forth to each other.
I watched the newspapers, the internet and the TV news. Very little was said about the house fire. Just that two bodies had been found and identified, and the place was a crime scene. I had to smile; I didn’t see any way that they could link the crime to me. Then I thought about the gun. I was going to use it one more time before I got rid of it—if I didn’t get caught with it.
I was not spending much time with Julie and the kids. The two kids were grieving hard. Julie was doing her best to take care of them. She was treating me as if I was incapable of taking care of myself.
I was still on short-term disability when I told Julie that I had some business in Philadelphia and would
be gone for two nights. She came right out and asked me, “Brandon, is it another woman?”
I lied, “Honey, this is strictly business. You can call me anytime that you want to. Please though, just take care of my kids. When I get back, I will make all this up to you.”
She bought my story, and the next week I flew to Philadelphia. I had my big handgun disassembled in my baggage, and I picked my bag up and nothing was ever said about it. I guessed that they did not X-ray it. I got a room at a hotel in Wayne and rented a four-door, plain white car. I drove by the house several times, and I saw a young woman out in the yard working on the flowers. I couldn’t be sure if she was “the” woman, but she was the right size. It was her hair that bothered me; it was too dark.
Somehow I had to meet this woman and get close to her in two days.
The first day that I was there, I watched her for close to eight hours, and she didn’t go anywhere. The next day, she left early in the morning and went to the grocery store. I got a basket, picked out a few items and followed her through out the store. I was guessing that she was about thirty-five and had a Middle Eastern look about her. She was a nice-looking woman. I never got the opportunity to meet her, so I followed her home again.
It wasn’t long until she was back out in her flowerbeds working again. She could have easily