You Are My Soul

I knew I loved her the moment I saw her. Well, if I’m completely truthful I did not exactly see her face but smelled her perfume as she walked by me in the hospital. I saw her silhouette, dressed professionally and highly manicured. I understood immediately that she was in sales, we see them all the time in the hospital. They come with their fancy rolling travel bags trying to sell the latest medical devices or the recent pharmaceuticals that ensure healing, minus a few side effects.

She finally turned my way, and I could see her face. Her beautiful brown complexion, her eyebrows drawn in a little heavier like she may have been a chola in her younger years. She was short, maybe 5’ tall, but she was thick! Not in that way where it makes someone uncomfortable, but where a tiny waist seems slightly at odds with her full hips and ample breasts. Her hair was dark, thick, straight, and parted neatly to the side and barely broke over her shoulders. However, the one thing I will never forget was the fragrance she wore. I will never forget that sweet smell as long as I live. Although I am not sure how long I have after my discovery this afternoon.

Our relationship started when she dropped her folder. I think I may have knocked a doctor out of the way reaching for that folder. I was quick to the draw, my heart was racing fast, it was a bit of a blur getting to that folder. When I handed her the folder, she gave me a quick glance with a thank you but hardly noticed me. That did not deter me from introducing myself. “Not a problem ma’am”, and that caught her attention. Not because I was being nice, but because I knew she was too young to want to be called ma’am. I might have been wrong about that, but it did catch her attention.

She swung her head around quickly to see would dare call her ma’am, although it was merely an act of courtesy. I would have sworn I saw a frown line appear for the briefest of moments, but then I smiled and stuck my hand out to shake hers. “My name is Louis, but you can call me Lou”, I said and thought I heard my heartbeat in my voice.

She looked at me and I melted looking at those big brown eyes. “Well sir, I suppose I am pleased to meet you”, now she gave me a wry look and I knew she called me sir to make a point. Then she smiled, we both smiled, and the laughs fell easily into this magnificent world. “My name is Stephanie, Stephanie Ramos”, and thank you again Louis.

Then she turned and proceeded on with her visit to the doctor. What I knew in my heart was that I would find a way to run into her again. Fate would have it that I would see her only a week later during her follow-up visit to the doctor. I won’t lie by saying I was not keeping a lookout for her; I did not know if she would return but I hoped with all my heart that she would. When I saw her walking down the hall I said, “excuse me ma’am, umm, Ms. Ramos, do you have a second?”

She once again had that wry look but as her smile spread across her face I knew she was being coy. “You again, Mr. Louis”.

“Call me Lou.”

“Ah yes, Lou. You must be a CNA here Lou.”

I knew she was now messing with me, “well, I am a RN here and my CNA days are long gone. In fact, I am the charge nurse in the ER department.” Now her smile was on full display, and I couldn’t help but return that smile. I said, “it really is good to see you again Stephanie, truthfully I was hoping I would see you again.”

“Why would that be Louis?”

“Call me Lou, please.”

“Okay Lou Please, why would you hope to see me again?”, Stephanie seemed amused and playful.

“Well, to be honest, I was hoping I could ask you out to lunch sometime Stephanie”, my confidence had always been strong, but I was feeling a couple of cracks in that foundation.

“Lou Please, unfortunately I have a rule that I do not date anyone that works at my client’s facilities. It is a rule that has worked very well for me and ensures there are no hindrances in my path to success.”, and I could see Stephanie was serious about this rule.

“I would be willing to take a leave of absence if that provides some buffer, and if you end up liking me even a little bit, I will change jobs”, and I was dead serious about this comment.

Once again, the smile she unleashes is filled with beauty that captivates me fully. “Lou Please, for you I will make an exception. Only because I do not want to cause you any lost wages and I am sure your patients need you here. My one condition is this, we must have dinner instead. Anywhere I choose. Do you agree to those terms?”

I would have agreed to any of her terms, but this was the best of all worlds. We met at a great steakhouse called Ruth’s Chris in Walnut Creek a week later. She was born in Alameda, California and lived most of her life there until she moved to the quiet little town of Moraga. I was born and raised in Oakland, California and am still a resident in the Laurel District. We lived to vastly different lives, but that did not become a red flag for neither of us. While I saw remnants of a chola in her makeup style, she lived a relatively slow-paced life and her chola tendencies were mostly influenced of her mother who was born and raised in Los Angeles, California. I told her about my life in Oakland, my street days, my days of living fast, and how I turned my life around to be a caregiver opposed to someone who created havoc and chaos.

That first date was 11 years ago, it took us one year to realize that were destined to be married. We had a small wedding by Mexican cultural standards, only a few hundred of our closest relatives and friends were invited. It was as magical as any wedding could have been, at least for me, I was and am, still madly in love with her. That night was a blur, but I clearly remember us reading our vows to one another. I can her Steph’s voice saying softly under the stars, “Lou, you are my love, you are my life, you are my king, but more than that, you are my soul.”

I never quite understood why she said it that way, you are my soul. I did not know what she meant, I would have expected soul mate, but not you are my soul. That part of our vows may gain some clarity after I finish this story.

The next 10 years went by fast. Way too damn fast. We never had children, we figured we would wait until our lives slowed down. Maybe in our early 40’s we’ll have children, people are having children far later in life these days and why rush it. Everything was perfect. As perfect as a marriage can be. We had typical challenges in life, but money was never one of those challenges. Between both of our incomes we had more than enough money to invest in the stock market, invest in properties, invest in retirement, and a healthy savings account. Maybe time was our only source of battles because there was never enough time for us to be together.

I worked three 12 hour shifts then off four days which gave me plenty of spare time. Steph traveled at least two weeks out of every month to service national accounts, so we were able to spend frequent time together and frequent time apart if that makes sense. But still, I wanted to see her every day and I felt she had the same longing for me.

Well, I digress. My discovery. My discovery this afternoon changed everything. I wanted to surprise her with an anniversary gift. Like I said earlier, ten years goes by fast when you are with a person you love and admire. I wanted to give her a gift that showed her I paid attention to her and listened to the little things. As we were walking by Neiman Marcus one day, a pair of boots were in the display window, and she wanted to go inside and try them on. They were Valentino Garavani Combat Booties. They were nearly two grand, so she said they were not worth the price. However, I saw in her eyes she was merely being smart with money but wanted those boots.

I did not understand the attraction to those boots, but I knew she would love them. So, I wrapped them in beautiful silver wrapping paper and put them in the corner of her closet. I would ask her later when she got home to see if there was something out of place in the closet. Not the cleverest idea I’ve ever had, but I knew it would do the trick to get her to find her gift.

As I eagerly moved her other shoes around to make room for her gift, I noticed a loose board in the furthest right corner of the closet. I rarely if ever go into her side of the closet so there would be no reason for me to notice it before. Our closet is a big walk-in closet and has all the bells and whistles to hold all her shoes, outfits, and accessories a woman needs. The only part of the closet designed for me was an area to hold my hats. I am a hat freak. Other than that, this closet was tailor made for my Steph.

So, it was a surprise that there would be a loose board in the corner of the closet as it was fairly new and there would be no reason for a loose board unless it was intentional. For a reason I did not understand, my gut turned and twisted into knots. The alarm bells in my head were going off, but I did not know why. Something told me not to pay attention to that damn board and simply leave the gift in another area of the closet. It was certainly big enough.

However, another voice in my head told me to see what was behind that loose board. Maybe it just needed to be fixed and put back in its place. Or maybe something was hidden behind that board, something I did not want to see. I pulled the board gently, wondering if there was a trap laid somewhere. There was no trap, just a tin box with a small lock and the key still in the lock. Again, my gut tightened but I pulled the box out and studied it for anything out of the ordinary.

Just a box. But what was inside the box? I decided I wanted to know. Whether it was monumental or nothing to be worried about, I had to know. I twisted the key and opened the box. The first items I noticed were the watches. There were at least five and four of them looked cheap. There were rings, wedding bands, gold nugget rings, several pinky rings. There were some men’s bracelets and a few women bracelets, various chains. Again, mostly men chains but there were a few women’s chains with pendants and diamonds. Then there were the driver’s license and identification cards. Still mostly men but there were women’s ID cards in the pile as well. My heart raced about the unknown.

I pulled one of the identification cards, the name and picture looked vaguely familiar but thought it must be my imagination running wild. There were at least 30 cards from states all over the country. As my heart rate began to even out, I looked more closely at the ID cards and studied the expiration dates. Some expired over 15 years ago and others recently. Why would she have these ID cards? What did it mean?

I got the idea to search these names. Steph would not be home for several hours still. I had the time to research a bit. The first name was Xavier Maximilian Rojas from Des Moines, Iowa. His driver’s license expired about 8 years ago. I plugged his name and city of residence into Google search and there were only a few people with this name, a few obituaries, and a couple of news articles. I clicked on the news article about a man who was killed viciously in his trailer home. The photo in the ID looked like the man in the article. Why would Steph have his ID and what interest did she have in this person?

My heart was starting to pick up speed again. I picked up the next ID card, typed in the information on a pretty, young lady shown in the photo on the ID. The ID belonged to a woman named Laura Trujillo from Oakland California. A local woman. She was not hard to find in my search. The news articles described the death as something that was done by someone who likely knew the victim and furthermore that it was the type of killing that was done for something very personal. Laura had been stabbed over 20 times with some wounds so deep they went nearly all the way through her body. The article went on to explain that Laura had been suspected of killing her two children, but charges were never filed due to insufficient evidence although the case was still under investigation.

Now I could physically feel my heart knocking in my chest at this point. I continued to plug in one ID after another. Each one associated with a vicious murder or missing person. How would a missing person’s ID be in our house? Why would any of these people’s jewelry be here in our house?

I did not know what to do. Again, and again, each search finding a different tragedy. Oddly, each person was also associated with their own heinous crime. What did this mean? Did Steph know the person responsible? Was she collecting these personal items to celebrate these deaths? Did she finance these horrible situations? Could she have committed these killings or caused these people to go missing?

My imagination was going full tilt now. I could not imagine her plunging a knife deep into Laura’s chest and watching her take her last breaths! Who the hell could do that? Who the hell did I marry? What was I going to do? Steph would be home in an hour or so and I had to decide what to do. I believe I had sufficient information to call the cops. What would happen if she saw police cars in front of our house? I wondered if she had cameras in the house and was watching me at this very moment. If I called the cops and she was watching, what would she do to me?

I was stuck. The love of my life must have some connection to these murders and missing people. There was no denying this fact. There was no way for her to have these items unless she was somehow involved. I did not realize that my shirt was soaked with sweat, my heart finally slowing but still beating far too fast for comfort. My phone rang, I screamed, I didn’t recognize my voice in that scream. My goodness, get ahold of yourself man!

The phone rang again, and I could see it was Steph. She would expect me to answer so I took a deep breath, exhaled and hit the answer button. “Hey babe, I was waiting for your call”, I tried to sound natural but felt like I just ran a marathon.

“Hey baby, I just landed and about to get off this damn plane! It stinks in here!” she laughed her sweet laugh. “Is everything ok? You sound like you’re watching a damn porno and breathing hard”, again that sweet laugh.

“Babe, I ran to get my phone. I didn’t want to miss your call. Everything is good here.”

“I should be home in less than an hour. Be in bed and ready for me baby! I missed you!”

“I’m ready for you babe, this porno was just the appetizer.” I did not know if my joke would pass but apparently it did, she continued teasing me.

“I won’t wear anything under my jacket. Look for me through the camera when I get home. I’ll show you a sneak peek. Love you!”

“I love you too babe, more than you know.” We hung up, now the real dilemma began.

I punched in 911 on my phone, hesitated to press dial, then put the phone down. I got up and paced around the house and prayed. I prayed even though I am not a religious man, I prayed to the universe, I prayed to my ancestors, and finally I prayed to God. My God is faceless and genderless, that is another story, but I prayed to God none the less. I prayed for an answer. The day of reckoning can come at any time. I knew this, I have experienced this, but one can never be truly prepared when the day of reckoning involves the person you love most.

I may have cried a while; I felt the heat of tears rolling down my cheeks. But I could not discern if they were tears of sadness or anger, probably a bit of both. What I absolutely knew and understood, there would be no love making when she got home tonight. The end was here.

A love so deep, so pure, so right, gone with my damn decision to pull that fucking loose board out of the closet. I guess I could put everything back in the tin box and act like I never seen it, but I knew that was madness. That was not an option. Still, I really considered this action because I did not want this to be the last night with her. Even if she was a killer or the cause of death at a minimum.

The answer came to me suddenly. Maybe prayers worked, or maybe my love for Steph was influencing my decisions, I knew what I needed to do. I would not live without her if I could help it. But I guess we will find out. I only had a matter of minutes to prepare for her arrival. Finally, I sat at the kitchen table with the tin box and our gun. It was a Glock 9 loaded and ready.

“Baby, I’m hom…” Steph stopped mid-sentence as she saw me sitting at the table but froze completely when she saw the tin box. Maybe she saw the gun too, but she only seemed to focus on the box.

“Baby. Louis. Why do you have my box? Why do you have that gun?” She did not know what to do next. She looked at me, looked at the tin box, looked at the gun.

I thought she would lose composure and start crying. I should have known better. Instead, she composed herself, asserted herself back into the present, as if she understood everything at once and was prepared to manage the situation.

“Babe.” I said and she looked at me as if she expected me to call her by her proper name. “Babe, please explain this to me.” As I spoke these words I felt as if I was disconnecting from this world. I meant to end this situation tonight. At least I meant to end my part in this, if being married to murderer means I have a part. I certainly have a part in this now as I have her tin box sitting in front of me. I do not intend to call the cops. The Glock will be the final answer.

I wondered if she would reach for the gun to try to end me. I think I could live with that, well, die with that anyway. That would certainly be the final answer.

She was still cool. Her eyes were clear and transfixed on mine. At that moment, I hoped she would shoot me and end me. I loved her too much. I thought I would end us both, but I knew I could not do that. However, I could end my life. I would take my life if it meant I died loving her forever.

She sat down at and pulled hers chair close to the table. She looked at the gun, “is that for me?”

“No, it isn’t babe.”

“Why is it out then? Do you mean to subdue me with that?” I didn’t know if she was gathering information or simply hearing my side of this story. She is smart like that.

“Babe, I need to know what this is about. I need to know why you have the ID’s and jewelry of dead people, of murdered people, of missing people. Why were these people associated with their own atrocities? Did you unalive them?” I have no reason why I said unalive, I only heard people say that dumb word on social media.

“Lou, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Babe, I only had a matter of hours to figure what this tin box was about and maybe another hour to think about how I would handle this situation. I love you babe, more than life itself. I mean that. I thought I would call the cops, but something told me not do that. Not just my love for you, but something inside my soul stopped me from hitting that dial button. I cannot change what has happened, I love you too much to hurt you in any way. I will end this for me though. When you are done telling me why you did these things, I will end my life. Then you can decide what you will do with yours.” I saw tears well up in her eyes, then they flooded.

“Baby, listen. You can’t do that. I will turn myself in to the police, whatever it takes to keep you safe baby.” She sobbed. The tears were rolling down her beautiful face furiously.

“Baby, I will tell you everything. But only if you let me turn myself in and you promise me that you will not go through with it! Promise me you won’t hurt yourself! Promise me!”

I knew she could be merely manipulating me. I knew I might be dealing with a supreme narcissist. I knew the risk. For love, for my babe, I took the bait.

“I promise, but please, tell me everything.” I felt my world falling apart.

“Lou, when I was a young girl. Hadn’t even had my first period yet. I was raped, beaten brutally, left for dead. It was a miracle I survived. It was blind luck that someone’s dog tried to pull me from the brush at the creek.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I was playing in the creek near my aunt’s house. She lived near Diamond Park, and I wanted to play for 15 minutes before we had dinner and it got dark.”

Goose bumps raised on my arms. I felt dé·jà vu, I knew what she was going to say, like I heard this story before.

“Lou, there may be a time for you to hear the details of what happened that day, but today is not that day. The truth is, I only know what was told to me, what the medical records say, and what the police investigation says. The man was never caught. They called this man Billy Doo. I am one of two who survived him from what I know. He is a monster.” She cried softly but pulled her shoulders back and straightened her posture. She looked like a soldier ready to reengage in combat.

“Babe, why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Baby, that type of burden does not need to shared. And you my love, you have been through enough in your life and don’t need any of my shit in your mental compartment.”

I could see there was no bait, this was not manipulation. I was angry at myself for entertaining those ideas.

“I could not avenge what happened to me. I could never find Billy Doo, but I could see the destruction he left behind. As I got older and made peace with the fact, I may never catch him. I also made a pact with myself, if I could right a wrong, I would do so. If I could avenge a victim who was wronged, find the wicked, someone that deserved to be held accountable for their heinous actions, then I would do so.” She looked at me with a hardness I had only seen in her expression a couple of times. “So, I take the lives of the wicked.”

I found myself holding my breath. I tried to breathe out slowly so she wouldn’t notice. Then I asked, “how many babe? How many have you killed?” I knew there was a coldness in that statement and in my tone, but if it’s time for facts then I might as well know as much as I can.

“There are 33 dead. I took the lives of 33 mother fuckers that deserved to die. Each of them escaped justice, or punishment, or whatever bullshit you want to call it, but they walked this world without consequence. Until they ran across me.” Now she let out a big breath. Almost like she had been holding it for years.

Steph then proceeded to explain how she found these people. The due diligence that was performed before any action was taken. The various and creative ways she lured these people to their deaths. How she disposed of some of the bodies that were never found. How each time she ended them, she made it known it was for the atrocity they thought they had escaped. Finally, how she sent some type of souvenir, or news article, or note to any anyone who had lived through their ordeal. To give them the peace she has never found.

“Lou, at our wedding when I said my vows, I said you were my soul. I meant that Lou, with every ounce of my heart. I knew one day this would catch up to me. I want you to know you gave me hope that I did not know existed until you made your corny move on me. I had to do what I had to do, my only regret is that I knew it would one day hurt you. Please forgive me baby.” She reached forward and closed the lid on the box.

“Everyone in this tin box deserves to be in there. I will not be convinced otherwise.” She looked at me as if she expected the standard response of no one should be judge and jury of another person.

Instead, I nodded as if agreement. I knew what must be done. I picked up the gun, felt its weight, and pulled out the clip and unloaded the chamber. I got up and pulled her up to me. I hugged her tight, probably too tight but she held me ever tighter. I do not know how long that hug lasted, but I didn’t want it to stop.

I maneuvered her to arm’s length in front of me, “babe, you are my soul too. I love you babe. I hate that you were hurt. I hate that you had to take care of these fuck heads alone. I am with you babe. We are not calling any damn cops. Today, we start cleansing those who need to be cleansed together. I need to know how you make these determinations, what your protocols are, and how you have managed to navigate being caught. From now on, it’s me and you. Fuck these bastards. Fuck Billy Doo. We will kill him too.”

We embraced again. She did not have any clothes on under her jacket. We made love, it was more than love. And then, our story began…