The Honeymooners

A wheel on a car splashes through a puddle in a depressed spot of concrete as the driver turns a corner. It's a little after midnight, and the stormy weather that hindered the area was settled in for the long haul.

Lyle Swan was driving, just finishing off a double shift, and a mountain of paperwork, before getting behind the wheel. As he drove through Fulton, an area under a near constant cover of darkness, Lyle rubbed the scruff on his face. It had been a year since his last vacation, and a year of double shifts, overtime, and court appearances had helped him pay for this one. He was looking foward to getting away, some time in the sun, and most importantly, with his wife.

The Swan's were married two years ago. Helena was his everything, and he felt like the luckiest man he knew. Unlike some of the wives, Helena didn' t have a problem with a guy being driven, enjoying his work, and being willing to put in the hours. She knew the job of a cop was stressful, and somehow, she made his life easier to cope with. Not all the wives were like Helena.

As he drove past Barton Street, Helena called his cell.

"Baby, I know you're exhausted, but is there any chance you can swing by Dillon's and pick up a late supper?"

That was all she had to say. Dillons had some of the best sandwiches in town, and he was famished. If Helena was willing to eat Dillons, so was he. As he crossed the next intersection, Lyle turned and made a dash toward the outskirts of town. Dillons was toward the highway, located near a culdesac area. It was perfect for truckers, the college kids, and the locals that lived out that way.

He picked up two hot ham and cheese, and a large order of onion rings. Their onion rings were so good, he wouldn't complain a bit about kissing the wife after she ate her way through half of them. They were like her kryptonite.

Back in the car, and on the way home, Lyle started going through the to-do list he worked on over dinner. He still had to pack a carry on, lock down his guns, put his department squad car in the garage, and make sure he packed an extra battery for his laptop computer. The flight was seven hours, and there was no way he'd be able to sleep on the plane.

It took another twenty minutes after stopping at Dillons. The food was still warm, and his car smelled like an eatery. He pulled up out front of his house. The lights in the front were all turned off, but the one in their bedroom was on. There was probably things Helena was still packing, Lyle thought to himelf.

As he walked inside the house, keying his way through the front door, Lyle yelled out to tell his lovely bride he was home. There wasn't an answer.

'Somebody's got their earbuds in,' he thought.

He went to the kitchen, set the bag of food down, and made them each an iced tea.

As Lyle carried things toward the front of the house he flipped a light on, noticing things weren't normal. The chair in his living room was turned over. There'd been an altercation of some kind.

He dropped the bag of food and the drinks, pulled out his pistol, and called out, "HELENA! IT'S ME!"

The light in the upstairs bedroom was on so he started moving toward the stairs.

Carefully, he maneuvered up the stairs, looking for signs of movement. As he reached the top of the stairs, he stared down the hallway. Lyle moved past the bathroom, turning with his gun pointed into the empty room. He moved past the guest room, and the spare room. There was no signs of trouble.

As he reached the doorway to his bedroom, he peaked around the corner with an anxiousness never felt before. There she was, Helena, laid out on the hardwood floor next to his bed.

Looking at the blood coming from her face and head, seeing that she wasn't breathing, he dropped to his knees and let out a blood curdling scream of pain.

Tomorrow was supposed to be the first day of the honeymoon they'd never had.