He nervously searched for the cellular device. It dropped near her head somewhere. His hand searched in the darkness and brushed downward across her forehead. He felt something wet and sticky. He brought his left hand to his mouth and lightly licked his fingers. The coppery taste had to be blood.

Tears flooded his eyes as he again felt her forehead. His index finger slipped into a deep, large hole. It could only have been made by a bullet. He didn’t know why this should cause further sorrow. After all, dead is dead no matter what the cause. He reached for the phone once more.

He found it laying in, what felt to be, a pool of partly dried liquid. The casket cushioning was soaked with it. It could only be more blood. He cleaned the phone on his jacket and held the device up to Janice’s face. He checked his grip and pushed a button.

He blinked. No! It was impossible! His imagination must be playing tricks on him. Perhaps the dwindling oxygen level was causing hallucinations.

The illumination revealed more than just a hole in the forehead. An ocean of emotional conflict threatened to drown his mind in suffocating insanity. He stared at the face and tried to make some shred of rational sense in what he saw.

The woman – this corpse – lying beside him, wasn’t his wife. It was Stacy Clemmons.

This made no sense whatsoever. Why would anyone want to kill Stacy? Other than being overly lascivious, she was a very sweet girl.

No, he should be honest with himself. Attempting to seduce a married man wasn’t sweet at all. Last night’s appointment with Stacy wasn’t their first meeting. Neither was it her first advance towards him. It was, however, her most aggressive.