"Why... I don't understand why he had to be so close." I speak to myself as I lock my home door. With everything that's going on... Added pent up sexual frustration should be the last thing on my mind. The drive from had been just as awkward as to.
Who are you John Paul Heinz?
I slowly approached the kitchen. So long as I lived in this home, I never took the time to really examine how well off I have it. Not to mention how lonely it can be living alone. My home is absolutely gorgeous. It's not too big and it's not too small. Actually nothing similar to the studio apartment I used to live in.
I tilt my head to the right as I observe the foyer. It's dim as the lights are off. The open curtains from the living room bring in the sunlight, illuminating everything it touches. I drop my keys in the key bowl. I resumed walking from the kitchen to the vestibule, hanging my bag on the rack by the front door in the process.
I take a glance through the large window on the front door. I notice the all black Buick sitting across the street.
Hm.. I wonder if they're waiting for someone?
This very same car has been stationary since I arrived home. I first noticed it when John had dropped me off an hour earlier. Thinking nothing of it, I slide the window shade and continue on my tour. Proceeding through the foyer I arrive in the living room, just past the kitchen. I admire the all white sofa in the middle of the floor. Noticing how well it fits the black, fur rug beneath it.
This single floor apartment can be classified as a town home, since I have zero neighbors except for the elderly woman who lives next door. Meaning it's quite peaceful here. No one above or below. Everything I need is on one floor.
As I slowly proceed to the kitchen I hear the front doorbell ring.
I wonder who that could be. No one should be requesting my presence at this time of the day.
Thirty seconds passed and followed by the ring of my doorbell, there'd been a knock. A pretty rough one at that. I rushed towards the door to see whom it may be. I peer through the window cover. Two people stood patiently waiting at the door. There stood a young woman, maybe mid-thirties. Tall physique, slender legs, small waist, thick hips, as well as short arms. Shoulder length, wavy, thick, brunette hair. With a scowl that says "I've been through ish-"
The young man however, seemingly looked more approachable. He stood at about five, eleven, tall but not quite. Long legs, with an even width torso. High cheek bones, slim nose, full brows, with a head of blonde hair, models KILL for. With how plump and bright his skin had been, you could tell he wasn't mixed with a single thing. The man looked to be a super model... They both did.
After analyzing them for about a minute, I fix my lips to speak up.
"May I ask who it is?" I can see the woman roll her eyes and shake her head.
"Ma'am would you mind opening the door. My name is Detective Burnes, the lovely woman next to me? That would be my partner, Detective Alvarez." I could see him smiling through the window. They couldn't exactly see me, and with being taught my whole life to never trust strangers. No way in hell I'd be opening that door until I found out why they were here.
"Detectives? May I ask why you are at my home? Are there any types of problems officers?" The woman is visibly irritated. She speaks next.
"Ma'am actually, Vivianne Summers, we are here on behalf of James Olsen. Would you mind either stepping out on the porch, or letting us in your home. With all due respect, you've avoided us for far too long. To be honest you're lucky I don't arrest you for withholding information from an ongoing investigation."
YOU ARE READING
No More Mrs.Nice girl
Mystery / ThrillerVivianne has been through it all. Her sisters death, fathers suicide, her mothers abuse, and now James's obsession. There's a certain amount of stress, that she can handle. Nearly at the breaking point, and with a new man (J.P) coming into her life...
