When Michael Matthews came to several minutes after the chair was smashed across his head and back, his daughter was gone. He jumped up and ran downstairs thinking he could catch her. He couldn’t let her get away. She knew too much. He raced down to the foyer calling Jenna’s name. The front door was locked, and there was no evidence she came this way. He ran toward the kitchen and noticed a few blood droplets on the hardwood floor. He went to where they stopped at the back door that was standing wide open.
Matthews ran to the end of the yard following the path that led to the woods behind their house. He ran several feet into the woods calling Jenna’s name. He stopped and bent over to try to catch his breath. Standing up, he looked toward the bend in the path that circle back to the house. He looked toward the parkway running behind the woods. There was no way Jenna could have gotten this far this fast in the condition she was in. He felt the bones in her face break when he was punching her. She had been losing consciousness. Then, he remembered that her stupid girlfriend had been in the bedroom. That little bitch, Cara had probably hit him with the chair and helped Jenna escape. He’d have to get rid of both of them.
Hearing sirens approaching, Matthews looked down at his bloody hands. He wouldn’t be able to deny he hit Jenna. He would just have to come up with a good reason why. Putting his hand to the back of his head, he could feel the lump forming. Searching his memory of the scene, he remembered that Jenna had been kissing Cara when he came into the room. That was it. He walked in and saw his daughter kissing another girl and lost it. He’d say he just slapped her and her nose started bleeding. Yeah, that’s what he’d say.
By the time Matthews got back to his house, there were four police cars, an ambulance, and two fire trucks in front of his house. He pretended like he didn’t see them and started to charge up to the house, but was stopped by a rookie city cop. “Excuse me, sir,” the man said.
Matthews looked at the redheaded, pimply, faced young man. “What? This is my house,” he said and started to move past the man.
“You can’t go in there sir,” the redhead said and put his arm out in front of him.
“Yes, I can. It’s my house,” Matthews’ said and pushed past the man.
The young cop moved into Matthews’ path again. “This may be your house, but it is our crime scene.”
“Do you know who I am, you stupid little fuck.” Matthews started to reach for his wallet, and the young policeman put his hand on his weapon.
“Please keep your hands where I can see them, sir,” the man said curtly.
“Oh, for crying out loud! Who’s in charge here?” Matthews demanded and pushed past the younger man again. This time the three other men standing around moved into Matthews’ path. He looked up and saw Terry Howard walk out onto his front porch. “Fuck me,” he said to himself. He pushed through the men and stepped up on his porch to face his former best friend.
This was not good. Terry Howard was a good cop. It would be hard to snowball him with the bullshit story Matthews was going to use about Jenna’s nose bleeding. Hopefully, she wouldn’t turn up before he got to her. He had to get rid of her for sure now. Damn! Everything was going fine until that stupid bitch daughter of his had to poke her nose into his freezer.