Widow's Box

The day her husband had died felt like the end of the world as she'd known it. In a way, it was. She had lost her partner, her lover, the father of her children, and the man she'd go home to after a long day at work. The rain drizzled down upon the umbrellas of the group crowded around his grave, muffling the sounds of sniffles and tears being wept by visitors.

She sat front and center, an invisible spotlight placed upon her as the widow. Her cheeks were damp, but her features were that of stone. Her grey eyes were hard and emotionless. One hand grasped her eldest daughter's, while the other clutched a used tissue. She dabbed at her eyes absent-mindedly and drew in a deep breath.

She had dreaded this day since the day they had wed. The day she would have to spend the remainder of her life alone on earth, but she had only hoped that it wouldn't have been so soon. Her daughter's body shook with tears and the widow gave her hand a comforting squeeze, reminding her that her mother was there.

The priest's words were touching from what the widow could hear. She'd been zoning in and out since the day she had received the call from the hospital, the day her world had been turned upside down. As the funeral came to an end, she and her children rose to their feet, her own legs feeling a bit like gelatin.

She ushered her children towards the car when she heard her name being called. She cursed under her breath, just wanting to take her children home. "Cassidy! Cassidy, wait!" the voice sounded urgent and she gave a heavy sigh. She placed the car keys into her daughter's hand.

"Take your brother to the car, Liz, and call Aunt Darla. Let her know that we'll be home in a bit," she spoke in a quiet, unwavering voice. Her daughter nodded her head numbly as she took the keys, taking her brother with her to the car. Cassidy turned and was met by a petite dark-haired woman dressed in a black turtleneck and leggings.

Cassidy raised a brow, waiting for the woman to speak. "I-I just wanted to say that I am sorry for your loss..." the woman's voice was shaking with nerves. Cassidy gave the woman a faux smile.

"Thank you," she replied, attempting to hide the tired sounds in her voice. "It is a terrible loss to our family, but we will find a way to cope." The woman's eyes shifted towards the backs of Cassidy's grieving children and Cassidy followed her gaze.

"This must be so hard for them," the woman went on to say, playing with her fingers fretfully. "I lost my dad when I was younger than them and I must say it was, indeed, a terrible thing. Grieving is just so hard on children."

Cassidy glanced at the woman again, swallowing the bulge growing in her throat. "Yes, but my children are strong. I can assure you they'll be fine. Just not today. Thank you for coming, but if you'll excuse me, I'd like to take my children home."

She turned, making a start for the car when the woman spoke again, causing for Cassidy's blood to run cold. "Your husband was holding onto something for me," she began, her voice different somehow. "If you could possibly find that for me, I'd be deeply grateful. He said it'd be in the attic? In an unmarked brown box."

A chill crept up Cassidy's spine as she turned back to face the woman again. "And why would my husband be holding onto a box for you, Miss...?" The young lady gave an awkward giggle and stepped forward, extending her hand.

"My name is Hazel, but you can call me Haze." Cassidy cocked her head to the side as she studied the young woman's face, attempting to place if she had seen it before. They joined hands, giving each other a quick handshake.

"I will have to see if I can locate that box for you, Haze. However, it may not be today as I have to get my children home and settle down-"

"Little Petey. I'm sure he's going to be up shortly," Hazel said, causing another cold wave to rush through Cassidy's body. "Give Lizzie and James my best. Their father was a kind man. Do be sure to call me once you find that box, Cassidy, otherwise I'll be leaving town first thing Monday and I'll come by to collect it."

Hazel dropped the widow's hand, fighting off a devilish smirk. Cassidy blinked a few times, unsure if her ears had caught what was said properly. "H-How did you know my childrens' names? Or that my son would be getting up from his nap about now?" Cassidy felt blood rushing to her face, roaring in her ears.

"I worked with your husband for a time. We were good work buddies," Hazel replied matter-of-factly. "I'm afraid I must be going now. I have more packing to do before I leave town. Please don't hesitate to call for me at the Westchester Heights Apartments. I'll be seeing you, Cassidy, and again, I'm terribly sorry for your loss."

Without waiting for a reply, Hazel disappeared into the crowd and Cassidy felt a weight leave her chest as she exhaled, realizing she'd forgotten to breath. She turned, quickly making her way to the car as she avoided other grievers who had been waiting for her previous conversation to end. She began to drive her children home, feeling Elizabeth's eyes glued to her the entire time.

"Mom, is something wrong? Who was that lady?" Liz asked, her voice edged with worry. Cassidy forced a smile, shaking her head.

"A colleague of your father's from work. It seems your father was kind enough to store something away for her in the attic and she wants it back before she moves," she rattled off the explanation, unsure of what else to tell her children. A million thoughts were rushing through her mind during their short drive home.

Had her husband been distant lately? Was he having an affair with Hazel? Did he and Hazel have a family together? Cassidy parked the car into the driveway, sending her children into the house so she could have a moment to herself before going in to tend to a fussy Peter. Once she saw that her children had gone up the front porch and into the house, she forced herself to take some deep breaths.

The only reason Haze seemed to know anything about her family, was because her husband had talked about her and the children while they were at work. It was the only way to explain how she knew not just the children's names, but hers as well. She gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned pure white, trying to make her rationalizations stick. She let out a deep breath and headed into the house. She locked the door behind her, immediately having her sister fuss over her and the children.

Later that evening, Cassidy poured herself a glass of white wine and gulped it down as she debated heading up to the attic to look for that box. The idea of what could be inside was pestering her mind and as she poured herself another glass, she told herself that it wasn't fair for her to spend the rest of her life wondering what was in it.

She snatched up her wine glass and quietly snuck up the stairs, heading towards the attic when her daughter poked her head out of her room. Cassidy jumped, nearly spilling her wine. "Liz! You nearly scared me to death. What are you doing up?" Liz's face flushed bright red and Cassidy could tell she'd been crying.

"I miss Daddy..." She trailed off before beginning to sob softly into her hand. Cassidy sighed heavily, setting her wine glass down on a side table before reaching out to her daughter, enveloping her in her arms. She caressed her daughter's head, planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Your father loved you very much, darling. He always said you were his little pea pod," she whispered. Liz nodded her head and crept back into her room. Cassidy attempted to follow her, wanting to somehow provide her with more comfort, but found the door locked. She sighed heavily and took up her wine glass again, continuing towards the attic. She pulled down the stairs and she carefully stepped up.

Her hand fumbled against the wall and found the light switch. She gazed around the now illuminated attic, taking in the covered furniture and several disposed of boxes. Cobwebs hung in the corners and Cassidy froze in place. Sitting there on an old writing desk was an unmarked box wrapped in brown paper. She sat herself at the desk, sipping from her wine glass as she stared at the box in contemplation.

She had a choice. To know or not to know. She sat there for what felt like forever before setting her wine glass down, unwrapping the box slowly. She pulled off the box's lid and began to sift through the contents, taking items out one by one. She studied the numerous newspaper items, glancing through them. It seemed that Hazel was very into a serial killer who'd been terrorizing the city until just a few short weeks ago.

Cassidy began to pull other things out, her eyes widening in shock when she picked up a small worn jewelry box. She recognized it immediately. Her daughter had discarded it months ago and her husband had said he'd give it to his niece. She felt her eyes brimming with tears as, with shaky hands, she opened the box. She clapped a hand over her mouth as she omitted a frightful scream.

In the box, she found several rings and necklaces, even a few earrings that were missing their mate. All of them had some sort of dried blood encrusted on it. She felt her stomach churn as her mind slowly began to piece the puzzle together. Hazel was a murderer! She had to be! Had her husband known about this when he agreed to store the box for her in their home? She spotted some photos buried at the bottom and scooped them up.

Her heart began to race at the realization that she'd seen these women before in the newspapers. Some of them might not have been reported missing yet from the looks of it. She froze when she saw a woman with a bright set of teeth and curious eyes. Around her neck, was a pendent much like the one Cassidy had been wearing since her husband had given it to her last spring.

She barely saw the engraved C on the front before continuing onto a small photo album. She flipped through it and before she could stop herself, she had thrown up onto the floor. In the album were countless photos of Hazel posing with her husband around the poor women they'd murdered. Cassidy began to sob into her hand, her stomach churning. Her husband had been an accomplice in the murders...her dear sweet recently departed husband!

A thousand things were racing through her mind. How had she missed the signs?! How could she had been married to a serial killer all this time and not known?!

She rose on wobbly legs. "I have to call someone," she said to herself. As she rose to her feet, the house went dark. She heard a voice coming from the bottom of the stairs, "Honey, I'm home." The voice was cold and dark, yet familiar and Cassidy's eyes widened in terror.

Hazel was in the house.