(Welcome to the reading parlor.  If this is your first time visiting…STOP.  You’ve entered a novel that is being played out bit by bit.  Please go back to They Had the Right to Remain Silent (1), which was the July 16th posting, and can be quickly found in the archive section to the left.  Those of you who are up to speed, we resume where we left off last time.  Enjoy!)
They Had the Right to Remain Silent
Richard S. Jachimecki
Chapter ( xii ) continues…
     Owen shook his head from side to side and blinked repeatedly, trying to find a position to relieve his dizziness. He now found difficulty in moving his arms or legs, the limbs just dead weight on the bed. He heard the bathroom faucet running, then stop. This was followed by the sound of the ice, swishing and clinking against the bucket. She was back at his side, kneeling on the bed, putting a cold compress over his eyes and forehead. Her weight on the bed caused Owen’s body to lean toward her, against her thighs.
     “Now, one for your chest,” she whispered.
     The momentary chill over his skin flashed away as the molten of the projectile burned into him; his muscles reacted in one last grasp for life. The shrapnel tore through his body and into the mattress, and left his heart nothing more than exploded shreds.
     She pushed against the limp body and stood up.
     The wet towels she had wrapped around her gun hand blocked the backspray of blood and muffled the report of the weapon. She removed them, then placed them into a plastic bag she pulled from her suitcase. She scavenged the room and added the glasses and the bottle, along with Owen’s billfold and phone from his jacket. Reaching into her purse, she transferred her phone into the collection. She squeezed all the air out of the bag and tied its top in a knot, then placed it in the case. She worked quickly with the body, and finally covered the head and torso with a spare blanket from the closet. After washing over the toilet and drying with tissue, she removed the skin- tight latex gloves. All the cleaning items were flushed away.
     Opening 535’s doorknob using a kerchief, just as before when she entered the room, she looked back and scanned the scene one last time. The ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign was placed on the knob, then she was gone.
     At 11 AM the next morning, the evening’s dinner tray from room service would still sit, untouched, in front of the door.
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