It started when I noticed the ambulance stop outside. Two paramedics rush inside the open door of the house across the street and race up the stairs. Then a marked Police car shows up. Then another marked Police car followed by a Police van.
What could be causing so much commotion in the big brick mansion across the street on a lazy Sunday morning? It contained three apartments, each occupied by a woman. The owner lived there and even though I didn't know her personally, I knew she was in her mid to late 40's and had recently broken up with her boyfriend. Hey, it's a small town, we pretty much know what's going on with the neighbors even if we don't know them.
Then I thought of her tenants. One was a woman in her mid 40's who drove the flashy convertible. A lawyer, she was tall, slender and attractive although I had heard rumors she suffered from depression. The other tenant was a young woman, perhaps in her late 20's. I hadn't seen her for several days and I knew I didn't like the look of her boyfriend. I had dated enough losers in my time to easily spot one.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the paramedics leave empty handed. The women must be okay, maybe it was just a false alarm or something minor.
I then see a white
"Support Unit" pull up. I gasp as two men emerge in white crime-scene jumpsuits complete with hoods, boot covers and masks. One of the men is holding a big black camera.
Oh no!!! What is going on over there???? What is going on?????
I sit at our dining room table in stunned silence staring out the window as this grotesque scene unfolds. A few minutes later one of the white jumpsuits walks out of the building carrying a brown paper bag with a big square yellow tag. The number
"1" is clearly marked in bold black. After filling a few more brown paper bags, the white suits climb back into their white van and leave. So did several of the police cars.
Then my hands fly upward to cover my mouth and I feel tears form in the corners of my eyes as I see the
Coroner's Van pull up. I watch in horrified silence as two men go around to the back of the van and unload a gurney. They slowly roll it inside the mansion.
A few minutes later, the fully loaded gurney is brought back outside, a white sheet neatly tucked from the top of the head down and over the heels. I don't know who she is as I feel the tears slide down my cheeks.
As I type this I still don't know which of the three women was brought out on that gurney. None of the cars in the driveway have been moved and there has been little activity inside the house. We have been told no foul play is suspected but what I do know for sure is
somewhere a family is heartbroken.
