You know how you can feel your heartbeat in a cut? That’s my hand right now. I cut my hand. I blame Heather. Fucking Heather. No, don’t fuck Heather. She gets enough – she’s still got her boy on the side in the midst of her divorce.
On Monday, I was in the kitchen cutting up a bagel when Heather came up behind me and apologized. Apologized! You can just spring that on a girl from out of nowhere. She said she was sorry for accusing me of having an affair. There was no other explanation, she just walked away.
I was in such a state of shock, I didn’t realize I had cut open my hand instead of the bagel until another co-worker came in and swore at me. Together we wrapped the wound and cleaned up the mess without too much fuss. Now I have this lovely throbbing wound in my non-dominant hand making it somewhat difficult to do my job. However, these last few days have been the most attentive I’ve ever seen Heather. She brings me coffee, she doesn’t talk back – as much – it’s got me worried.
But more than that, killing is a lot more dangerous until this bandage comes off. I’m a lot more likely to leave behind traces if I’ve got an open wound and a fraying piece of cloth wrapped around it. Which means I’ve taken one life so far this week. That’s it. And I ran him over with my car which is effective but not a whole lot of fun for me. I enjoy some vehicular homicide every once in a while but when it’s my only safe course of action, I get bored.
At least I’m keeping the police department busy. James obviously doesn’t work directly on all of my cases but he usually ends up getting called for a few hours to guard the scene or talk to neighbours looking for witnesses. Miraculously there are rarely ever witnesses.
He’s such a good husband.
He made his appointment to take his detective exam. This time next month, we’ll find out if we’re in for a pay raise. I hope he gets it for a couple of reasons that don’t need explanation.
For one, I want my husband to succeed, and it will mean more regular hours. Although there’s no guarantee that he’ll work in the homicide department but it would be nice for both of us to have a detective on our side. Plus the aforementioned pay raise. Jason is graduating next year which means, he’s started to think about his future. I assume he’ll want to go to a technical college but I’m not about to make any assumptions about my children’s future. Whatever Jason wants to do, I’ll support him; I say that now but if he comes to me tomorrow and says he wants to be a stripper, I may change my mind.
Oh, you’ll never guess who called me on Thursday. Charlotte Westburn.
It was Daniel’s birthday and she was thinking about me. She confessed to missing him and to wondering what became of him. I assured her that wherever he was, he didn’t deserve a single thought from her. He hurt her and didn’t have the courtesy to say goodbye or leave her any money. Charlotte refused to go back to the house and instead, sold it and moved back in with her family.
I hadn’t heard from in many months – I think since Daniel was assumed dead. We talked for an hour, catching up on our lives. She’s doing well. Working and keeping her mind off of her ex-husband. I’m really happy for her. We agreed to meet for coffee in two weeks. It’ll be nice to see her again. Despite everything, she was a good friend.
I could use a good friend every once in a while.
As always, dear readers,