Wrenched

        William reluctantly gave her a ride to Robert Johnson's house. They exchanged goodbye's and she watched him drive off before turning to face the 'gigantic' sight in front of her. Although the house was quite a distance from where she stood, she was able to catch a glimpse of the beautiful sight in what was Robert's Johnson's house. Better still, mansion. She made her way to the front gate and was just about to hit the bell when a tall, huge man with a compressed face emerged from nowhere startling Theresa. As if his height and size wasn't enough, the grim expression he wore complimented the huge scar he had on the right side of his face, making him look intimidating.     "Theresa Gray?" he asked in a deep voice.     She gave him a brief smile and nodded. "Yes."      He drew open the seven feet steel gate and pointed towards the Victorian like building far away. Her eyes followed his

     The heavy rain pat on her window, the constant barking of her neighbor’s dog and the terrific rumbling of thunder, all contributed to Theresa's splitting headache that morning. She had awoken feeling light headed and at the same time, the pain of what seemed like the inside of her head being pulled apart. She had spent the better part of the night explaining why she hadn't made it to their dinner date the night before, to William. No sooner did the conversation change to Robert Johnson and her job as a journalist in his agency. Haven wondered why he'd been so techy since she got this job, she finally confronted him about it. He hadn't given any rational explanation to anything so, she resigned to leave him to his paranoia and went to bed.        She rampaged the first aid kit for aspirins or any other analgesic drug but with little success as the only thing closest to a pain reliever had expired. Exhausted and with an even worse throb

    She could swear she saw jealousy in the eyes of some other journalists. So much for a good first impression, she thought. As if it couldn’t get any worse, she was assigned an office rather than a desk like every other journalist. Surely, this treatment might send the wrong messages to her colleagues but, she eventually chose not to let that bother her and celebrate the fact that she would be working in her own office.       “About your biography Mr. Johnson,” she asked on getting to his office where he handed her a file to fill in the necessary employee details. “Was it an open contract?”         “Yes.” He replied. “I was going to give it to one of the other journalists before I stumbled upon your blog.”          Well that explains the flash of jealousy she thought she had seen. “Thank you again sir.”          As she turne

        “Miss Theresa Gray?” The man with the gun harness asked, flashing the badge on his wallet. “I’m Detective Richard Stones and this is my partner Veronica Hade,” he pointed to the woman in the police jacket.          Theresa nodded as she stared blankly at them, waiting for them to state their purpose. What would the police be doing in her apartment so early in the morning?        “May we come in?” the woman asked and Theresa stepped away from the door, giving them just enough space to brush past her.        “We are investigating the death of Mary Johnson and we would like to get your statement.” Detective Stones spoke out when he had taken his seat in the couch.       “Would you like coffee? I’m sure it must have been really cold out there,” William asked going into the kitchen and Vera eyed him skeptically

        Although Mary had been laid to rest, she was even more popular in death as the mystery surrounding her death stirred up many questions like who killed her? Why was Mary Johnson killed? And, New Times Daily captured all these headlines in their papers. Theresa ran all the way from her office to the conference room where her colleagues were patiently seated, waiting for her to complete the circle. Just at the entrance, she quickly straightened her black thin skirt and smoothed her hair before entering the room. Certainly, everybody’s gaze turned to her but she particularly avoided Sam’s face as she searched for a vacant chair. Her shoulders fell when she found that the only seat was right next to him. She cussed. Robert told her she must be early in whatever dealings they might have together. And for the first time, she showed up late to the meeting he had called for. She muttered an apology as she took the seat, only to be met with a harsh glare. Oh God, w