Someone scrapped away the soot from the license plate sufficiently to read the number thereby confirming what we already knew. "The doc says there're two in the front seat," came word later. I prayed our stalwart group of five wasn't down to only me.
While it would take time for precise confirmation, we all knew the burned out vehicle contained the bodies of Howie Abbott and John Luke Grasso. The skull of the driver bore the distinctive damage Howie had received in his earlier accident.
"Look in the trunk, please!" I said as I cleaned my face and staggered to my feet. The charred portal was wrested open.
"Just some machinery junk," a patrolman muttered.
Now the final search would begin. The hunt for my wife and Molly commenced at the scene of the blue van. It was presumed Howie was summoned there and picked up Grasso. While the killer's intentions were unknown, we knew Howie thwarted them both to their death. My mind was too awry to applaud or condemn his action. Did he know Molly and Betsy were safe, or already dead?
An elegantly dressed man in his sixties identified as Assistant Director Carlton Summerfield had taken charge. He called to muster everyone in ear shot to inaugurate a building to building search, beginning in a ten mile radius of the abandoned van. Thus began days of suffering.
Earlier in a cabin in the hills above Santa Barbara. I hummed a tune I remembered my mother singing to me as I strolled to the barn to slay the lying witch-bitch who thought she'd tricked.
"Please remove your clothing, Elizabeth. I want to have another word with you."
"Fuck you, you bastard!" I heard her snarl from behind the wooden door. There followed a murmured apology to the child for her language.
I hastily swallowed my anger. Soon enough, she'd pay for her insolence. I lifted the heavy wood beam that crossed their door, securing it. I stepped back.
"Please remove your clothing, Elizabeth. I want to have another word with you," I repeated, somewhat more sternly. There followed only silence. I didn't want to tarry. I had business to attend to. Carefully holding my knife before me, I began to push open the door. It didn't more! I pushed harder, as strongly as I could, with the same results. Then I realized; the bitch had nailed the solid wooden door shut from her side!
I quickly accessed my options. It would take a sledge hammer or more to break down this portal. After all, I'd designed it to be imperturbable. So be it. I had business to attend to. I'd either return later or assault the door at my leisure or perhaps, better yet, let the bitch and child starve to death in lonely darkness.