Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Mark Dawson cross himself, and that one movement confirmed her worst fear, ever.

“…… It was terribly dark.” She said in a very low voice, but it sounded quite firm.

“Nothing……” Followed she squeezed a word, trying that hard from the brown bush of her long curly hair.

All of a sudden, she added as if she was muttering to herself “There, I ……I was alone with his dead body in the blood…”

Those words were spilled from a helpless also guilty woman, and her head was almost buried in a sweaty chest, where it seemed like she could smell forgiveness for her sins. In the next 180 seconds, she gestured without any move, with a look like there was a silent spell on her. Until Mr. Dawson, her attorney and his husband’s legal adviser, sitting right in front of her cold sculpture, pushed a glass of water to the corner of her side, she shakes herself. It was the scratch between the bottom of the glass and the desk surface that triggered her sculpture shaking a bit. But still head down.

In the visiting room, door closed, viewed through the square window on the door, cops were on patrol like usual. “Nothing would catch up with such a golden opportunity.” Mr. Dawson thought.

Next Mr. Dawson shrugged and broke the silence finally and he proposed that “Alicia, carry on. Talk to me…… because I knew you must have noticed some differences from the crime scene. Considering you were the only witness when Will was murdered, you are now the truly only chance to rescue yourself out of prison.”

This woman in orange, supported by her skinny elbows was found by the police in her house the other night she called Mark. Precisely, it was where they found his husband dead, Will Newman, a decent and highly respected surgeon for his talented medical skills all of his living days, there was herself alone as she silently confessed, collapsing in the shadows nearby. And from that moment, she had never shown herself with head up. The corpse lying on the floor, the smoking gun was confirmed right in her hand ———a bloody candlestick. “Remember? what a happy couple you used to be. You should not have suffered all of this tragedy” Mr. Dawson tried harder to unzip her month. “Alicia……at least give it a try.” …… Later, less than a few minutes, she was shaking herself seemingly automatically.

The poor woman posed like sinking in a frowzy well, and suddenly being exploded in the cold air, arms folded tightly and so did her toes; besides, any part of her was shivering either because of fear or chilliness, or maybe both. Mark Dawson sat still and observed like an owl in daytime, everything happening all being witnessed in his grim and pitiless eyes. If only there were a wig on his head, he would perfectly suit the image of a judge. For such a moment, he preferred to watch, and that was all enough for him strategically.

Mrs. Newman used to wear a pair of pearl earrings Will had bought her while they were in love premaritally. But for now, these earrings along with her beloved bracelet watch were officially archived as exhibits in the record room and untouchably away from her cloudy soul. With a single exception, her pills were steadily put in her top left-hand pocket on her pants. She was taking Alprazolam, which is used to treat anxiety as well as panic disorders when in depression. Mr. Dawson gave it to her on dinner when she was suffering the unemployment on last Christmas; for your information, she was once a music teacher, working at a local training institution. It was such a great work and she not only got well-paid but enjoyed the time she had with innocent children; she always was the one who adored kid so bad while Will was not interested at all, so hence they had no kid in a ten-year-old marriage. Pretty upset, isn’t it? But she loved him so deeply that she could tolerate his small mind on the baby issue. More importantly, quite depressed, she found a way to have herself mentally released, and thanks to Mr. Dawson she would never forget how marvelous and powerful effects these pills were hidden.

Hung over the chair, staring at her toes without color and continuously shaking out of control, she finally moved her wrinkled hand to reach her sole joy alive——— a whole bottle filled with Alprazolam pills. Mark saw this, but he didn’t tend to stop her. Instead, he said “You deserve to be rescued and you and I both well aware of that. And I can give you a hand whenever you needed it.”

Alicia put a completely unbroken pill that she always took a half in past, in her mouth with a quick move. In the turn of a hand, she was acting like being thrown out a big warm hug and there was less out-of-order shaking but more orderly.

Given this, Mr. Dawson decided to open his mouth, again.

“Are you still familiar with my last Christmas gift?” He asked and smiled.

With a little pause, he continued. “It was declared as Lethal Weapon in your crime. Accurately, I should say one of those two candlesticks. And I bought……”

On hearing the word candlestick, Alicia reacted with astonishment and trembled like a thunder light flashing overhead. Immediately, she took another pill and waited for magic happening.

Mr. Dawson, however, had no plan to hesitate and even believed without a shadow of a doubt that it was the only right thing he would have done to her. “I bought that pair of fairies in Florence. They were gorgeous, weren’t they?” He emphasized in a strong voice.

He gave a queer laugh and said. “Last time, I saw them at the police station. Sealed in a cheap plastic bag, they were covered in blood. As you know, the same as the Will’s, your Will and mine, too.”

Most strikingly, Alicia began to moan in a very low voice but indeed which could be heard clearly. Meanwhile, she listened, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, bending slightly forward, tensing her arms in preparation for furious revelations. Undoubtedly, still speechless, lowering her head.

This time Mr. Dawson, however, said nothing, not even a word. He looked so peaceful and waited. Whereas, his client Mrs. Newman was sounded louder in the visiting room and acted in disturbances. She kept her feet rubbing each other in a tough way. All she desperately needed was one warmer hug.

Mr. Dawson didn’t speak until Mrs. Newman took a new pill in her mouth. “I am sure, Alicia, you must recognize my gift, Will’s favorite accessories in that big house, a pair of beautiful candlesticks, a nostalgic smell from Florence, an exquisite artifact from me. As for the blood……” he swallowed his words, choking with sobs, making a quick calculation and then took a deep breath. He questioned Mrs. Newman with the tone of coldness “Did you know what that blood mean? Now, tell me, your miserable wretch. A devil one.”

Mr. Dawson couldn’t help himself to talk. “You should be warned at any time that you are the one who murdered your husband and you deserved all this shit in prison like you always ought to.”

Flooded with Mr. Dawson’s revealing, she choked herself with all her grievance she had all the time since married. She wanted to cry in order to release her injustice but only to find that her tears had been dried already and forever. She wanted to scream but were feared of being heard. With a clear mind, she was desperately dying to find the real murder and prove her innocence. At the bottom of her heart, she got a feeling she was moving closer to the truth and would be able to shake off her cat-and-mouse fear once and for all. But she also knew it was not the right time; it was just not now, she hoped she could have spent more time being left alone in prison, which wonderfully indicated her reticent behaviors because, for some reason, she was deeply convinced after Will’s death, it was her duty to find the man behind the curtain or inside the closet and whoever killed her husband and framed herself up, it must be the same person and someone acquaintance with and also someone in a secret corner, where the behind-the-scene master, a set-up director, must have an access to her every particular gesture and behavior. And that’s why she behaved like this, a total mess and loser, and murdering-husband homicide, a silent lamb. She thoroughly recalled and dwelled on any potential loopholes over and over again as she took the next pill.

Alicia thought herself Mr. Dawson was going to leave and attempted to bring some good news for his next visit. Unfortunately, there was no next visit, as least that was not on Mr. Dawson’s calendar. Out of sight, Alicia had no idea what kind of news Mr. Dawson would bring to her in mind. “He had an affair……Mrs. Will” Mr. Dawson said directly.

The sixth sense of a woman was quite exact, and so was Mrs. Will’s. But she also believed people have five for a reason. She had noticed but like now, she chose to ignore. And she was still in with Will, the man she got promised. Will was a legendary excellent husband, a real keeper, and he built a sweet and safe shelter for his family. No doubt, Alicia felt lucky and grateful when living together with Will, her tasty pill for the sense of insecurity.

“And you might don’t know his secret lover’s identity, but I can tell you everything I know, as long as you raise your head and ask yourself.” He tempted.

It worked, actually. Alicia’s top body began stretching in a wide angle, widening like a fish burned in sunlight, no struggle, no pain, not anymore. Although it was the last thing she would like to find out, it was a sure thing she could wait for any second to learn about his mistress. Actually, her theory was never settled but for Mark’s generosity since Will hided secrets as good as healed patients. On her mind, she chuckled to herself, after all, she got one potential murder on the list. Eventually, she decided to talk to Mark face to face. Raising her head, as her line of sight fell on a blinking object, out of the blue, she was frozen deadly. Tears drilling automatically from her dried-up tear stone, speechless, poker-faced, she was overwhelmed by a stroke of epiphany because she has recognized that heart shaped necklace on Mark’s. She was hopelessly in need for pills, but her hand was disconnected. Mathematically, there has been four tablets in her, and according to medication references, she was going to be drowned in the chasm of despair. sooner or later.

Mrs. Newman has been declared guilty of murdering his husband, Will Newman, and in prison, she was now at a stalemate with her attorney, her husband’s legal adviser, a family friend, a liar, her husband’s secret…… With the last slice of her strength, she tried as much as she could to rotate her eyeballs uphill. Viewed from the brown bush, at her range of sight appeared a mystery smile face, on which a drama was played on his lips, a forceful beard standing still, a lofty noise occupying a commanding position, and speaking of his eagle eyes, the blue fear; but alas, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Mark Dawson cross himself, and that one movement confirmed her worst fear, ever.

Just one glance, it was enough for her to have a glance of his husband’s lover, a man in the suit, and to be released once and for all. In her autopsy, it was believed that a massive overdose of Alprazolam led to her cardiac failure and final death.

On his way home, Mark Dawson recalled every word Will said to him the night he was murdered. “I can’t get a divorce not because I stopped loving you, but I have made a long-term commitment to both parents, and I can’t live peacefully for the rest of my life if I break it forwardly.” Mark didn’t give it up and queried, and then Will answered. “How can I prove my love to you? Mickey, you are stubborn like you always have but I never get tired of it. And you know me.”

“I have already been sick of this, and nothing different remains.” Mark complained.

But he was shocked by Will’s next move. Will grabbed a candlestick and stuck it toward to his heart area, and at once, he was collapsed under Mark’s knee and said in a weak voice” Can this prove it?” So shocked, Mark held Will’s hands and sobbed. On the contrary, Will said “I have to show you my true blood, my true love, and you will forgive me. But don’t be so sad. Don’t you remember I am a surgery and I can totally handle with this.”

So sudden as all these events happened, Mark felt himself like a fool and he hated this feeling even if becoming a happy fool in love. He left Will alone and rushed out of his house; soon after he disappeared in the dark bush in the neighborhoods. When he answered Alicia’s call, he still thought it as a trick. So he didn’t take it seriously until the police called. He was suffering from insomnia after Will’s death. After finishing attending Will’s funeral, he made up his mind to take a revenge and determined to ask Alicia to pay the price.

He kept recalling the whole tragedy and so whacked out in the sweaty suit as walking along the street. Nothing thunder-struck hit just until he pushed the door in his apartment, passing out softly and desperately needed a large warm hug through his waist. (To be continued.)