In the Belly of the Beast

30

He ran out to the market to pick up a few things for dinner. He had gone on and on about this new special recipe he'd invented. He banned her from the kitchen and insisted on cooking the whole thing himself.

She'd tried to talk him out of it, but he said he wanted to do it. Desert would be hers to handle, he'd smiled, knowing she knew nothing about cooking.

"I think I know just what you have in mind," she'd said playfully.

He kissed her lightly on his way out, saying he'd be back in a sec.

But he never returned.

The driver of the other car ran a stop sign, speeding, and stoned out of his head. Traynor had been killed instantly in the side-impact collision.

It was incredible how something as mundane as a quick trip to the grocer could turn her life upside down.

She was numb with grief.

***

His body had been shipped back to LA. He had distant family there. For a brief time, she toyed with flying out to attend the service, but she nixed the idea. She didn't want images of Tray stretched out in a coffin to haunt her memories of him.

She decided to keep him in her heart as he'd always been, vibrant, smiling, and stop-your-heart handsome.

The only way to function, she decided, was to dive back into work. Work kept her mind busy and gave her little time to dwell on her loss.

She'd never let on to anyone about the affair.

She had kept it her secret.

She hoarded it now, afraid that any revelation would somehow cheapen what they had shared and tarnish what she held so dear.

It had been only a few short months. Besides, words could not help her grief. They would bounce off her like missed shots off the backboard.

Still, keeping things under the rug didn't necessarily mean that her co-workers hadn't found out. Secrets had a way of being uncovered by cops who loved good gossip from the grapevine. If they knew about her and Traynor though, they mercifully kept it to themselves.

The eyes at the precinct shifted away from her. Her presence made the others uncomfortable, made them think of their own mortality.

Death by association.

That was o.k. She needed her space right now.

"Oh, Tray," she whispered to the unseeing night.