The Steps They Took (Chapters 1-2)

                                                                            Chapter One 

Renn Allen lay in the darkness beside his sleeping wife, contemplating the black baseball bat lying on the floor beneath their queen-size bed. Had the man who carved the first bat realized what a wonderful weapon it would make? That someday his invention would be used to fracture bones? To split skulls? Renn imagined the look of horror - or was it revelation? - on the inventor's face the first time someone wielded his creation in anger. 

The bat that had triggered Renn's ruminations belonged to his wife, Sabrina, whose steady breathing in the bed next to him assured him that she had not yet awakened. They had placed the bat under the bed seven years ago after purchasing their first home, a three-bedroom, one-bathroom clapboard house in one of Corpus Christi's oldest neighborhoods. Sabrina had insisted on placing it under the bed (on Renn's side since he, as the man, was the family's protector) in the event that someone broke into the house in the middle of the night. Renn had not thought that scenario likely considering the neighborhood in which they lived, but he had acquiesced in the hopes that Sabrina, who was always afraid of something, would feel safer. 

They lived a few blocks from Corpus Christi Bay in an area popular with young couples starting families and purchasing first homes. People generally felt safe in the Morningside Subdivision with its older homes, mature greenery, and relatively large lots. Safe from drugs and gangs that plagued the Westside, shielded from traffic and people choking the Southside. Although not immune from the occasional burglary or teenage vandalism, to Renn's knowledge no one in the neighborhood had ever been raped or murdered or gunned down in a drive-by. But the security in which his neighbors wrapped themselves might very well evaporate in the next few hours, depending on where Sabrina and her lover rendezvoused and the degree to which Renn took vengeance. As a writer and a lover of words, Renn had looked up the word "vengeance" in the dictionary, and discovering that the simplest and most direct definition was "violent revenge" gave him more satisfaction than it should have. Violent revenge was exactly what Renn had in mind, and, if all went as planned, his tranquil Morningside neighborhood would soon be in for a shock so severe that "safe" would no longer describe it. 

Renn could not remember the first time he had seen the weapon that was to play such a critical role in this morning's events. It had come into his life, along with the rest of Sabrina's possessions, when they married ten years earlier, the day their lives officially merged and their possessions, no matter how inconsequential, united under one roof. Sabrina, taller, big-boned, and thicker than the average woman, had been an athlete in junior high and high school, running track, competing in volleyball, and, in her junior year, playing right field on the girl's softball team. She had been an average athlete whose fear of failure compensated for lack of talent, and she might have continued her athletic career in college had she not torn the anterior cruciate ligament in her left knee her senior year. The term "weak-kneed" sprung to Renn's mind, a phrase that described Sabrina's physical and emotional liabilities, including a pathological neediness that, until recently, he had never fully understood. 

How appropriate that her own bat would be used against her and, more importantly, her lover. Renn imagined her parents purchasing it with love. He pictured a sixteen-year-old Sabrina studying it at a sporting goods store while her father, a former minor league baseball player, looked on with nostalgia and pride. Neither could imagine that twenty years later the same instrument would be used in anger to hurt her, and that her husband - the man to whom she had once pledged her love - would wield it. 

In the early morning quiet, Renn realized his heart was pounding, and he reminded himself to relax. He had tossed and turned all night, drifting in and out of consciousness as the details of his plan ran through his fevered brain. Sometime around midnight, Renn had climbed out of bed to flip the switch to activate the bamboo-bladed ceiling fan above their bed, producing a comforting breeze and white noise that lulled him to sleep. He looked at the clock radio on the nightstand next to Sabrina's side of the bed. Five-fifteen. She would be up in fifteen minutes, well-rested and ready for the day. Renn, having slept little, would be exhausted before sundown. Fortunately, he would have the weekend to catch up on his sleep, although he had no idea whether he would do so at home or in jail.