Passion of Lust

A house has a way of becoming part of your life, a place of memories and many years to live. To watch it burn. It was difficult. We can and will re-build, naturally. The house fire took all it could, yet the walls of stone remain firm. What is charred will be soothed with plaster and made pretty once again. For when a house is well made, it can be reborn after such things, with little patience and a lot of love.

For the years I needed their sanctuary, these brick walls have been my cocoon, and I thank them. My eyes wander the rugged clay surface, their rosy color bright yet earthen. My hands feel the warmth of the sun, imparted to them yet given back with a steady determination. Leaving home after finishing college was never going to be easy, yet I take these emotions with me, these memories of comfort and joy.

I say goodbye to my parents and wave as I drive off to my new home in England. I bought a new house for myself after I saved up tons of money for it. Many hours as a waitress at the Havana Java Cafe. I watch as trees and buildings pass me in a blur as I pull up to my new house. I look at the house in awe.

From the outside, it looks cozy. It has been built with popular wood and has popular wooden decorations. Tall, squared windows let in plenty of light and have been added to the house in a mostly symmetric way. The house is equipped with an average kitchen and three bathrooms, it also has a warm living room, five bedrooms, a grand dining room, and a modest storage room. The building is shaped like a short U. The two extensions extend into wooden overhanging panels to each side. The second floor is smaller than the first, which allowed for a large balcony on one side of the house. This floor allows the same style as the floor below.

I walk into the master bedroom and smile in awe. I see the balcony door with a spacious balcony, and the bedroom is big enough for two king-size beds. It has a big king-sized bed with black bedding. It’s tidy in here. I have a walk-in closet for all my clothes, too. The room is plenty spacious for me. I put my suitcases down and sit on the comfy bed. I can get used to this comfort.

I start putting away all my stuff knowing tomorrow I have to go grocery shopping and important shopping like dishes, tupperware, and a dish drainer even though I have a dishwasher. Before I know it, I am done organizing my clothes and decorations around midnight. My room feels more comfortable. I decide to get in pajamas which include a loose, black t-shirt and black underwear. I lay in my bed and set my alarm clock for 8 a.m. Once I have my alarm set, I get comfortable and close my eyes, hoping for good dreams instead of the nightmares I have been getting of people dying and it coming true. It doesn’t help when you are a mage or witch. Dreams can vary whenever they decide. I can never have a normal dream. I just hope for a normal one this time.

__________________________________________________________________

Crime, stress, poverty, trauma brain architecture, poor educational outcomes, and poor health come as one picnic basket. Start with any of them to positively impact the others, but a kind society looks at all of them simultaneously. They aren't genetic, but they do impact epigenetics. I get a call about a crime since I am an FBI agent, but my parents think I am a lawyer.

The call was about a 7-year-old boy who has been missing for over 24 hours. Typical kidnapping. The only difference is that the parents have 72 hours to give the kidnapper $15K or the boy dies. That is not a lot of time for the parents or me. I already have my first interrogation. Grayson Wolfe. The mechanic that last saw the boy with his father.

I pull up to the mechanic shop and see Mr. Wolfe working on the tires of a 2003 Chevy Malibu. At least he does hands-on work while I do interrogations and suspect work, well, at least for now. I get out of the car, with my badge on my belt. The mechanic, Mr. Wolfe, looks up as I approach and he smiles, but it immediately drops when he sees my badge. I see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows in fear.

“Grayson Wolfe?” He nods as he is wiping his hands on a dirty rag. “My name is Detective Rodriguez. I am here to ask you a few questions about a missing 7-year-old boy named Nathan Woods. Do you have time?”

“I do. Ask away.” He says as he grabs a socket wrench and starts putting bolts on the tire.

“When was the last time you saw Nathan Woods?”

“With his father. I was asked if I can look at their car in a few days, but I am booked with this vehicle. It’s getting a complete remodel.”

I nod and write that down in my notepad. “Did anything seem suspicious between Nathan and his father? Like not wanting to be here long?”

“No. He let me give Nathan a lollipop. Nothing seemed suspicious between the two.”

“How long ago did you see Nathan?”

“3 days ago. I have a question for you.”

“Okay..”

“Why did you take on this case? The kid is probably dead by now.”

“I took this case to help the parents find their child. No parents should be wondering where their kid is after a kidnapping. As a detective, it’s my job to find Nathan.”

“That is a fair answer. Now, I have work to do. Please see yourself out.” With that, he gets back to work and I walk towards my car, huffing. He just dismissed me. He is very rude. And he had the nerve to ask me why I took this case. I have my reasons.

He didn’t have to be such a douchebag, but I had nothing to say back with those arctic lake blue eyes staring at me. I wonder if he is single. No, Martina! Do not think that way! He is a suspect, not a one-night fling. I hop in my car and head back to the station to give the sheriff my report on what Grayson Wolfe had to say. I hope I am not too late for little Nathan. I wanna save this boy.

25 minutes later

I am standing in front of the Sheriff after giving him my report. He had some bad news after I finished and he has yet to tell me. He looks at me sternly and sighs.

“We found Nathan’s body in a lake near the station. The kidnapper wants to send a message. I am sorry, Martina, but we were too late.”

His words slowly sink in as I try to process them. The boy is dead. Little Nathan, who I was trying to save before he got killed. His poor parents. I sink into the Sheriff’s office chair and sigh before putting my head in my hands. I tried so hard to get information from Wolfe. I look at the Sheriff and nod before leaving. I will discuss this later with Wolfe. I need a glass of red wine first.